


Coming Home

by rosa_lunae



Series: Homecoming [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, Justice League (2017), Justice League - All Media Types, Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Angst, Bisexual Diana (Wonder Woman), Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Kissing, Outdoor Sex, Post-Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Post-Wonder Woman (2017), Pre-Justice League (2017), Romance, Slow Burn, Squee, Suspense, eventual wonderbat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-01-21 14:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12459708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosa_lunae/pseuds/rosa_lunae
Summary: After she receives his gift, Diana invites Bruce to Paris so she can tell him her story. They are interrupted when a figure from Diana's past returns with a message from Themyscira. Diana, with Bruce at her side, discovers that not all myths are myth and she is not as alone as she once was.





	1. Sister

She eventually told him her story. 

Bruce Wayne would argue that he thought nothing tracking down the photograph on his own time and dime or of arranging a trans-Atlantic delivery of the original photo via his own company’s armored car and employees. Truthfully, he thought extensively about it, as he did most things. He wanted to show Diana he cared, yes, and he wanted to ensure this photo was placed directly in her hands. Since he wasn’t the one doing the placing, he required additional security. Simple; efficient. Logical. 

If Alfred implied that Bruce’s obsession with finding the original photograph for the Amazon Princess was odd, especially now when Superman was dead and the world going to Gotham-level shit, Bruce ignored it.

 Her emailed reply came minutes after the courier alerted him of the verified delivery.

 

  _Bruce,_  

 _Thanks for bringing him back to me._  

_Diana_

 

The note was neither satisfactory or unsatisfactory to Bruce’s mind; it was merely information-- communication from Diana. He had little doubt to who “he” was; Bruce researched every man in the photo. Three of the four lived through World War I; the fourth, Captain Steve Trevor, closest to Diana in the image, died on the eve of the armistice, sacrificing his life to save thousands from deadly gas bombs. 

If there had been something quick and bright between Diana and this Captain Trevor, Bruce found little use in envying a dead war hero. The information, however, afforded him something he might have called hope, if he'd had any familiarity with the notion. 

Steve Trevor-- a man; not a meta. Very interesting. 

Young, Bruce thought, studying the man’s face, but what was age to an ageless being like the Amazon princess? Bruce was not as young as he once was, and not nearly as old as Diana, but he’d recognized the look of her when they first met at that gala. She would smile, smooth and powerful, but it would not touch her eyes; eyes that had seen too much. He knew that look. He forced that smile daily.

She’d be just starting her work day, he imagined. Meanwhile, here he was staring at his laptop just after 3am, after calling it an early night on patrol (maybe so he could be home when her package arrived, but convincing himself it was because the night was quiet was easy enough). He hoped she was pleased. 

His computer chimed; a video call. He stripped off remaining armor, leaving a black t-shirt behind. Behind him was simply a blank wall, nothing interesting. A couple clicks and commands to further secure the connection, and he answered. 

Diana appeared, a wall of artifacts behind her. She offered him a little smile, one almost like a smirk. “Bruce. I thought you might be awake already. Or... awake still.” 

He leaned back in his chair, settling in to the strange comfort of her. Her hair was pulled back, her make up subtle but for the deep red on her lips. “This is a secure line,” he said. Her smile widened.

“I would expect nothing less.” She shifted, glancing off to the side, where something must lay on her desk. “I am calling to thank you. I received your parcel, and I felt an email was not a sufficient thank you.” 

Bruce Wayne, playboy billionaire, might have replied, “Seeing your face is all the thanks I could ever hope for,” or some other suave nonsense, but he did not have to act in front of her. She saw through him the first time, so he hadn’t bothered since. 

So he said, “No thanks necessary. It was the right thing to do. I owed you.” 

Her eyebrow lifted; he studied her face, trying to learn every facet of her expressions. “Are we... even now?” she wondered, searching for the word. Playful, he decided. 

“Well,” he considered. “You did save my life, the value of which seems to be debatable. A priceless original photograph for my life-- seems sufficient?” 

He meant to return her playfulness, but she sobered. “No. A life for a life, Bruce. I saved your life; I'll share mine. You asked for my story; I'd like to tell it.” 

He sat up straight. “When. Where?” 

Her smile returned, but it seemed weary now. “Perhaps you can meet me in Paris tonight; we are hosting a fundraiser here at the Louvre at 8pm. I have a plus one ticket.” 

Unsaid: _and no one to give it to._  

“I’ll be there,” Bruce said.

 

XXX

 

He’d been to the Louvre before, usually for just this type of event; tuxedos and sparkling jewelry, delicate laughter, champagne, and lots of unspeakably wealthy people writing checks. He’d never shown up simply to browse the exhibits or because he truly longed to purchase a piece or sponsor an artist. No, Bruce Wayne simply needed to be seen as his usual barely-tolerable self. 

Tonight was different. He’d clicked off with Diana and immediately called Lucius to clear his day at Wayne Enterprises and Alfred to make travel arrangements. Lucius did so with little comment, but Alfred had no such qualms. 

“And just what, might one wonder, would draw you to Paris with such short notice?” Alfred wondered as he delicately set a late night snack-- or extremely early breakfast-- in front of Bruce, cloche and all. “Or perhaps the real question is _who_?” 

Bruce decided his butler was entirely too smug. “Selena’s going to make a move,” he said, eyeing Alfred’s reaction. The older man’s face fell for a second, then he grinned. “No, no, Miss Kyle hasn’t yet finished paying her due to society after her last indiscretion. A fair attempt, Master Bruce. Do give my regards to Her Royal Highness.” 

Tonight was different; his mind operated as it often did--noticing exits, eavesdropping, cataloging body language, accepting a champagne glass for form’s sake. But the tallying of familiar faces and known histories was largely a background task; consciously, he was focused on finding one person. If anyone noticed Bruce Wayne acting out of character, they didn’t stop to wonder about it too long, as he didn’t stop in any one place too long. He finally planted himself with his back to a corner of the ballroom so he could see every entrance. But in the end, she still surprised him. 

“Bruce,” came her rich voice, just behind him and to right. “Stop prowling.” 

He turned, noting she was draped in a chair that he’d sworn was empty when he walked over. She smiled, lifting her champagne glass in greeting, and this time, her dark eyes smiled too. He noticed her bare arms, how she never seemed to wear any jewelry, and filed that away, then chastised himself because why would that information ever be relevant to him, and when she uncrossed those legs and stood, her pale gold dress cascaded down to the floor with the barest glimmer of light off the silk. Her gown had a wide-neck and a floor length cape with one slip up her right leg. Royal and powerful, like she was. He wanted to trace her collarbone for some reason. 

“Diana,” he greeted, tapping his glass to hers in greeting. She grinned, and his heart might have stuttered. “I’ll have you know that Bruce Wayne never prowls.” 

“Certainly not,” she agreed, her voice laughing at him. “Unless it is in pursuit of a business acquisition or a beautiful woman.” 

He wasn’t bothered by her humor, yet he pondered his reply, swallowing the response he might have given as playboy Bruce Wayne (something-something beautiful woman like yourself or something something mission accomplished).  In his mind, he’d thought, “And you are both,” because gathering the metas with her help was certainly some kind of business venture, but it all felt wrong, and he didn’t want her to meet _that_ Bruce Wayne or be reminded of Batman, and wasn’t that strange.

 “I was glad to hear from you,” he finally said, aware that too much time had passed. He offered her his arm, and she indulged him, slipping her fingers into the crook of his elbow. “Thank you for inviting me here tonight.” 

“I’m told you enjoy a good party,” she said, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor and take the lead in a simple waltz. 

“I have been known to frequent them,” he agreed. A subtle motion to the left with his head and a quick turn of his body as they danced, then he said, “Are you okay with being photographed with me, Diana?” 

Diana’s gaze flicked to the one photographer who’d been allowed access to the event. She recognized him from _Le Parisien_ and considered for a moment. Bruce mistook her silence for hesitation; his steps slowed. In response, Diana tightened her grip on his hand and shoulder and brought their steps back into rhythm with the string quartet. Strange, to realize that he’d not be able to break her grip, and not feel concerned. 

“I know the photographer, Bruce. Absolon’s a good man, and the paper wants to highlight the museum. They will be delighted by your presence, especially if you make a donation. American celebrities always help publicity. But _Le Parisien_ isn’t a tabloid, and I’m nobody special here. It will be fine. You don’t have to worry about my reputation.” 

Bruce relaxed, and she let him take back the lead. He opened his mouth to refute her “I’m nobody special here” with an observation about how many people were watching her, but she continued, and he couldn’t interrupt her. 

“I have been here in Paris for a long time. It is almost time for me to leave here.” 

He blinked and it clicked. “People may eventually notice how...” _you never age_ , he finished in his mind. She nodded. He lifted their joined hands, gently led her in a turn, then pulled her back in. Her hands were warm. 

“Where will you go next?” he wondered. The photographer had moved on, and many of the dancers were leaving the floor to head back to their tables as the first course of dinner was served. He didn’t mind cold soup at this particular moment. 

Diana smiled. “Perhaps I’ll return to America; I may be able to find work at The Met, and I always loved New York. I have a friend nearby, in Gotham.” 

“Yes, Alfred did tell me to pass on his regards.” 

She laughed, delighted, and Bruce felt it in his chest. He swept the princess into a shallow dip, which made her laugh again. 

“Bruce, I am truly grateful for the photo. No one has done something so kind for me in... years.” 

“I owed you...” _I was happy to..._  

“And I owe you my story. I don’t get to tell it often. I have a private table, which after you’re satisfied it’s private enough, I would like to give you the high points. I suspect it is too long for a single evening.” 

Bruce Wayne might have commented about hotel rooms or how evenings can be much longer and go by much faster with the right company. He let all those lines pass through his mind without touching a single one. 

“Diana,” he said. “You owe me nothing.” 

She took his hand, and began to lead him toward a table a corner of the ballroom. “Nor did you owe me anything in return for your life. It was a gift I was able to give you; so is my story, if you will accept it.” 

“An honor,” he said.

 

Bruce pulled out her chair, which she accepted with an amusement that remained as she watched him use his phone and smartwatch to check for bugs and disable recording devices in their area. He even set a small device from his pocket on the table that looked like a cell phone but he said emitted a barely discernible tone that would disrupt long-distance microphones. Once he’d done this and analyzed everyone sitting hear them, he turned his attention to his cold soup. 

“I suspect you have already researched my people,” she began, nibbling on a piece of bread. She left the cold soup, instead waving down a server to request another bottle of champagne. In the meantime, she took Bruce’s glass and drank from it. He liked that. 

“I have,” he said. 

“Many of the myths have some truth within them. Let me tell you about my mother.” 

While they went through the meal, Bruce made note that she’d ordered the vegetarian options, and filed that way. A normal thing to note, he told himself. Alfred would want to know her preferences, of course, should she come to visit. 

Diana told him about Hippolyta. He listened attentively, rarely interrupting, as Diana sketched out the circumstances of her birth, her belief that Zeus may have played a more active role in her creation than bringing a clay infant to life, and her upbringing with the Amazons. He noted a handful of names that appeared more than once: Antiope, the beloved aunt and general that fell during the invasion; Menalippe, Antiope’s partner; Artemis; Phillipus. She spoke quietly, but animatedly, gesturing and letting her face flood with expression-- joy, nostalgia, longing, he could see it all. 

Entrees were served; Diana took a long inhale of the aroma of her pasta dish, taking several quick bites while it was still hot. Bruce watched her then remembered to attend to his own meal; she’d opted for the skirt steak for him; it was unbelievably tender. As they ate, she gave him highlights of her involvement at the end of the Great War. Steve’s crash landing, the subsequent invasion, escaping the island and heading to Europe. She did not linger long on the fate of Veld, knowing that he would have read about it in the search for the photo. She told him instead about how she’d thought General Ludendorff was Ares, how she’d killed him, and how she’d killed the real Ares after witnessing Steve’s death. 

Over dessert, Diana said, “You are too polite to ask about Steve and I, I see, or perhaps you do not care to know more.” 

“I want to hear everything you want to share,” Bruce replied honestly. 

“I did love him, as much as I could have. We only knew each other for a handful of days but they were intense days, and hard days are the same as easy years, you know.” 

He did. He nodded. 

“After Steve’s death, I stayed in London for a while with Etta. I kept track of the guys, at least until the second World War broke out. It was harder then. Everything was harder then.” She seemed unbearably sad now; he wanted desperately to ask if she’d intervened in World War II, or any other conflicts over the years. Stories from Veld died with the town after the bombing, and her few friends had guarded her secrets to their graves, he imagined. How could she have justified laying low during the reign of Hitler and Stalin? He did not press her for more information though. Not now. Not yet. Seeing that kind of evil after she’d been newly disillusioned about the nobility of humanity..... knowing now how little blame could be assigned to Ares, who would have been dead when Hitler rose to power... he found he could not judge her too harshly without knowing. He wondered if he’d feel differently if she shared the details. 

She’d gone quiet. “If it’s okay with you, Bruce, I’ll spare myself the retelling of my friends’ deaths and that next war; you may have read about them already anyway.” He nodded, touching her hand just briefly. He had read about them all, everything he could find. 

“It must have been a lonely century,” he guessed. “Can you never return to Themyscira?” 

She sighed, looking off towards the dance floor again. Couples had begun to populate it again as they finished their dessert and the coffee kicked in. “Very few have ever left, and none of them have ever returned. Legend said it was forbidden, but we could not ever interview any sisters who left because they never did return. I was the first to leave in 5oo years.” 

“Did you try to return?” 

She returned her gaze to meet his own. “Yes. Of course I did. The island is magical; I could not find it. And the gods are gone; no one could guide me, and the island did not help me.” 

Magic frustrated Bruce; he changed the subject. “You went by Diana Prince back during the Great War; you still go by Diana Prince now?” 

She smiled. “My name _is_ Diana, but I have used other surnames over the years, since I usually have to move every decade or so. I am both uncomfortable and inept with deception myself, but Sammy, who survived the war and lived to his 90s, taught me about being undercover. It helped. I stayed undercover most of my life. No one has found out about me for a generation. Until you and Luthor, and now, technology remembers everything. I wonder how much longer I can manage it. Or if I should.” 

He pondered that, considered for a long moment before making the offer, but he knew he’d made it anyway. “I can help with some things-- information trails or identification, and so on. Should you require help in the future, that is. You seem to have adapted to modern technology just fine,” he said, remembering. The memory made her smirk. 

“As best as I could,” she agreed. “Though, you were able to break the encryption, when I was not.” They both sipped coffee, despite neither feeling tired. “I may have need of your resources and expertise in the future, though. I thank you for the offer.” 

“You are welcome,” he said, surprised to realize he meant it. 

“Mademoiselle Prince?” 

A server approached with a small bouquet in hand, composed a few white madonna lilies and three branches covered in tiny purple flowers Bruce didn’t recognize. He considered snatching the bouquet from the server and.... what? Pouting? Frisking it for weapons? 

“ _Oui_?” Diana asked. She didn’t stand. 

“ _Un cadeau pour vous, mademoiselle_ _,_ ” the server said, offering her the small vase. She took it, studying the flowers. 

“Blooms from the chaste tree? _Mais de qui est-ce?_ ” 

“ _La dame assise au bar_ ,” he said, and gestured as subtly as manners would allow, then excused himself. 

“He says it is a gift from a woman at the bar,” Diana translated for Bruce’s benefit. 

“An admirer?” Bruce wondered, looking over the faces at the gleaming bar. No one was looking their way. 

“It’s not beyond the realm of possibilities,” Diana murmured. “I also enjoy the company of women, as you might guess after hundreds of years never knowing only that. But these branches... they have been clipped from a chaste tree; they grew on the island. But that’s impossible...” 

She looked up to see Bruce studying her, and for a moment, she laughed. “Focus on the relevant information, Bruce, not the irrelevant scintillating bits. We aren’t an island of chaste prudes, trees aside. But these flowers....they are symbolic, and I haven’t seen this particular shade....” 

Diana scanned the female faces at the bar, and suddenly, the blood drained from her face. 

“What is it?” Bruce asked, alarmed. He wanted to reach for his plastic batarangs, the ones that metal detectors never caught. A tall, lithe woman, reddish brown hair was looking their way now, staring dead at Diana with a strange look on her face-- part joy; part sadness. 

“Menalippe. She’s here. How...” Diana stood, took two steps, then stopped again. “She’s coming this way.” 

“Be on guard, Princess,” Bruce advised, watching the woman with the serious mouth rise from her chair with a grace Bruce recognized; Diana moved that way-- the leonine grace of a warrior. “It may not truly be her.” 

Diana mumbled something in Greek. 

“English, please, Princess,” he hissed. “Let me help.” 

“Menalippe...” Diana whispered. “ _Megáli Íra. Adelfí mou, ti kánate?_ ” 

He recognized the Greek word for the goddess Hera and “my sister” but not the rest. “English. I know you both can speak it,” he demanded. 

“I have asked her ‘what have you done,’” Diana whispered. “To leave means to never come back. It means she has been banished or--” 

“I chose to leave, as you did, Your Highness,” Menalippe said. She too wore a Grecian style gown, but Bruce guessed that it was authentic and very recent Themysciran style. It did not suit her, exactly. The soft and flowing lines seemed out of place on her angular, muscled body. 

“But... you know if you choose to leave, you may never return,” Diana whispered. The cadence of her voice changed, and Bruce saw that her eyes were far away, just for a moment. “Why have you left home now?” 

“Two reasons,” Menalippe said. “Please, may we sit?” 

Bruce reached signaled for a server without taking his eyes from Menalippe, and another chair appeared in seconds. 

“I meant alone, of course. Who are you?” Menalippe demanded of Bruce, taking a step into his personal space. He held his ground, maintaining eye contact with her. 

“I am a friend of the Princess,” Bruce said, before Diana could speak. She’d moved to stand next to him, placed a gentle warning hand on Menalippe’s shoulder. 

“Yes. He stays. Come, aunt. Let us sit. Enough stalling,” she said, pulling her aunt’s chair out and then taking the seat Bruce offered her. He sat, watching the two women, aware that either would be a formidable threat, particular now that Superman was not around to challenge them. But Diana had confessed that she was different, that she had greater powers than the other Amazonian warriors, who though immortal, could not heal as quickly as she did, were not as strong as she was, could not manipulate energy with their bracers, and could not fly. “I am blessed by the gods,” she said then, matter of fact, in the same way someone else might have said, “I’m left-handed.” 

“Why have you left home?” Diana asked. 

“There was nothing left for me there, Diana. Without Antiope, the island held little joy. I could not be the General she was, and I can love no one like I loved her. I tried; for a hundred years, I tried. I would have left for this reason alone long ago, but I know Antiope would not have forgiven me. But just last month, the Queen needed a volunteer to get a message to you, and I already wanted to leave, so I volunteered. Now I’ve found you.” 

Bruce wanted to demand what the message was right away, but Diana said, “You will be remembered as the general who took the mission no one else would have wanted, Menalippe. You spared others from having to make that sacrifice.” 

A wry expression from the other woman. “Some may guess that my motivations were not so noble, Your Highness. I have not been a... pleasant General in Antiope’s shoes. It took me these past weeks to find you, even with help. And I have a message for you.”

XXX


	2. True Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an "in-between" chapter, but we'll see Diana, Bruce, and Menalippe interact at length, which I hope you'll find as fascinating as I did.

If anyone took notice of Bruce Wayne departing gala early and leaving the Louvre with two beautiful women, likely they only shook their heads and commented that some things never change. Few would offer their attention long enough to notice that one of the women was employed by the museum, and those that did know Ms. Prince would smile and hope she had a good time without getting her heart broken. 

Bruce volunteered to take the ladies to an apartment he owned nearby where they could be assured of privacy. Menalippe regarded him with open distrust, which Bruce couldn’t help but appreciate; he in turn had formed few opinions about the other Amazon with so little information available to him. But considering her convenient appearance with a message she had yet to disclose, Bruce was also disinclined to be trusting.

Diana, of course, could not know how to feel. The joy at seeing Menalippe felt eclipsed by the dark circles under her aunt’s eyes and the ominous words on her lips. And Bruce, blank and cool on the surface, fairly vibrated with tension next to her.

“I could call a car,” he said. “Or we could walk. It’s not far.” With a practiced eye, he glanced at the feet of his two female companions. Diana had paired her dress with sandals with intricate straps up to her knees, but they were, he noted, blessedly flat. If his gaze lingered, it was because the slit in her gown allowed for the glimpse of her toned leg. Deliberately, he glanced at Menalippe’s feet, noting that the woman wore practical ankle boots in the same brownish red as her dress. Both women would be comfortable walking, he guessed. Bruce had a moment to wonder if Menalippe’s boots were Themysciran as well before Diana spoke.

“Thank you, Bruce,” she said, and her gaze assured him that she meant it. “Let us walk, aunt. Is my mother well?”

Menalippe glanced over at Bruce with unmasked contempt. He stared back, unperturbed.

“You may speak freely in front of him, Menalippe.” Diana’s voice carried a bite that he rarely heard, the sound of a command thinly-veiled. Menalippe straightened.

“Your mother is well, Diana. Stories of your great acts have reached our ears, through the wildlife. The queen shared them with pride.”

Diana considered that, remembering her younger self, always glancing up at her mother and hoping to see pride in her eyes. Antiope had seen that desire for her mother’s approval for what it was--a weakness, a chink of self-doubt in the armour she would need.

“Have there been any other invasions?”

Bruce let himself outpace the women, though each could easily keep up if they wished. But he listened.

“No.” Menalippe’s pause was too long, as if she’d swallowed. “None since your captain fell from the sky and that ship of Germans followed him.” Bitter, those words. The invasion that had killed her beloved Antiope, Bruce remembered.

If Diana winced or reacted in anyway behind him, it was not something Bruce could hear. “He did not survive the war,” Diana said.  “He died a hero, giving his life to save many others.”

_ It was not his fault,  _ Bruce heard under her words. It wasn’t quite a censure, he thought.

The princess continued, “Just as Antiope gave her life to save mine. It is a gift I remember every day of my long life, aunt.”

No, not a censure. Diana, a warrior ever-brokering peace, had painted Steve Trevor in perhaps the only way Menalippe could approve of him-- being like Antiope.

Behind him, Menalippe was silent. Bruce led them around a corner, enjoying the pleasant breeze-- chilly but not unbearably so. Both women had donned cloaks on their way out, and he’d never seen Diana shiver, even in her skin-baring armor. 

He turned back to the women as he came to a stop. Paris didn’t exactly boast too many high-rise buildings for Wayne Enterprise to stamp its name all over, but he did own this building, an old inn remodeled into luxury condos, keeping the fourth and top level for his own use.

He studied the older woman, and noted, with some curiosity, that she was visibly older than Diana. “You are welcome in my home, Menalippe,” he said. And again, let his eyes rest on Diana for a moment. He could feel his gaze softening, cursed it vaguely in the back of his head.  He nodded at her. “Princess. I realize neither of you need my assurances, but you will be safe here. Follow me.”

As they walked up the stairs, Menalippe said, with the barest attempt at whispering, “Who is this man, Diana? How is it that you trust him?”

Amusement brightened Diana’s tone. “I have come to trust several men during my time in Patriarch’s world. Bruce is one of them. Though perhaps he might not always say the same for me.”

Bruce scoffed before he could help it; certainly, he trusted Diana as much as he trusted anyone who wasn’t Alfred. And wasn’t that alarming. He was opening the door to his rooms as Diana continued.

“Besides, Bruce is a warrior in his own right. I would think twice before you decided him an easy mark.”

Bruce cleared his throat, leading them inside and shutting the door behind him and on the part of him that warmed at the compliment. “Ladies,” he said. “Make yourself at home.”

Diana did so, immediately divesting herself of her cloak and hanging it on the rack near the door. She also bent to remove her shoes, left them under the cloak. He pressed the button that activated his gas fireplace, and smiled when she gasped in delight. She spread herself out on the chez lounge nearest the fireplace, tugging a blanket over herself.

He smirked a little at the sight, mentally making sure that door was still shut on all the warm feelings. “Now if you were only so attentive to my suggestions in all things!” he said, in a mock serious tone. “I’ll get us some refreshments. There are guest bedrooms for you both if you so desire.”

With that, Bruce disappeared into the kitchen.

Menalippe's narrowed gaze followed him, then settled on her niece.

“Diana.” She sighed, letting go of whatever she’d been about to say. “I missed you, child.” She followed Diana’s example in sliding out of her shoes and hanging her cloak. She kissed Diana’s forehead, gripping her hand tightly, before settling on the chair across from her.

Diana huffed, but it was an indulgent sound. “My dear aunt, I was centuries old before I left Themyscira and another century has passed. I’m hardly a child.”

Menalippe waved that away. “ _ You _ may live centuries more, yet always you will be my dear niece, the sweet child who snuck away to her fighting lessons when her mother slept.”

If her aunt had placed an odd emphasis on  _ you,  _ it didn’t snag her niece’s attention. Diana felt the sting, as she always did, when she remembered Antiope. “You knew about that?”

This time, Menalippe laughed warmly. “Of course! Antiope was ever waking me up when she returned to bed, to brag about your progress, vent about some mistake she was trying to drill out of you, or fret about whether or not she should tell your mother.”

When Diana looked surprised, Menalippe smiled again. ‘’Your aunt was a formidable warrior, yes, but she was a woman too, one who loved you and loved her sister. She often wondered if she was doing the right thing, coming between you as she did. But the older you got, the more sure she became. You are without compare, my flower, the greatest of the Amazons.”

Diana remembered Clark Kent, thought of Bruce in the next room, of the other meta-humans they would track down together, and wondered if she was that unique after all. Bruce entered during these thoughts, setting a tray of water glasses, cheese, and crackers on the coffee table.

“I’m sure you didn’t come here simply to flatter her,” he said, sipping from a glass, and gesturing towards the platter with vague welcome. The acerbic bite of his suspicion appealed to Menalippe.

“You would do well to remember who she is, Bruce Wayne,” she said.

“I am unlikely to forget,” he answered.

Diana rolled her eyes. “You have both fought at my back,” she reminded them. “I trust you both. Perhaps you could factor that into your evaluations of one another.”

Bruce smirked. It was a very  _ Bruce Wayne _ expression, yet he didn’t seem to be putting on airs. She liked it, liked being in his home. She couldn’t be aware that Bruce was trying desperately hard not to enjoy the situation himself, and failing.

“Perhaps  _ you _ could test his honor with Hestia’s golden perfect,” Menalippe suggested innocently. 

Bruce glanced at Diana.

“I trust Bruce. I trust you, aunt. You can growl at each other later, as you find necessary. Why have you come? What is your message?”

After one more glare at Bruce, Menalippe seemed to settle. She sat up straight, took a deep breath, then decided to stand, pacing a little before she stopped and spoke.

“We have been deceived, Princess, all of us. You may have succeeded in killing Ares, but he did not succeed in killing all of the gods. Our oracle has spoken; Zeus lives, and others. And they are summoning you. That is why I have come.”

Diana blinked, feeling her face go blank. Zeus... the legend of her birth was that she’d been sculpted from clay and brought to life by the king of the gods. Yet Ares had told a different story, and she’d never been able to return to Themyscira to demand the truth from her mother. But her thoughts did not stay on her parentage for long.

“But if they can be reborn... what about Ares? Can he return?”

Menalippe shrugged. “Thousands of years passed before any of the pantheon, save Ares, were heard of, and even he stayed quiet for much of that time. I do not know.”

Bruce, who had had heard the story of Diana’s birth mere hours ago, would not be distracted from the topic. “What would Zeus want with Diana? A vassal? Or a daughter?” His eyes narrowed on Menalippe. “Perhaps  _ you _ should take the lasso, so we can be sure you speak the truth, that you are who you say you are.”

Menalippe shot to her feet, outraged. “I am general to the Queen of the Amazons!”

Bruce crossed his arms. “Not anymore.”

Menalippe sputtered furiously.

“Enough.” Diana stood, and wouldn’t you know it, she was ripping her dress down the side to reveal her armor and the lasso in question beneath the yards of fabric. If you asked Bruce to explain how her dress sandals were gone and the armored boots in their place, or where the shield and sword came from, he would not be able to do it without “magic.”

Frustrated by that very fact, he crossed his arms, maintaining his glare at Menalippe as Diana dropped the remains of her dress away and stepped out of it. That particular image would remain burned onto his mind’s eye for some time yet.

“Aunt,” Diana said, reaching for the lasso, which warmed to golden light at her touch. She took two steps toward the other Amazon, held it out gently, an invitation. “Would you take hold of the perfect?”

Menalippe looked down at Hestia’s lasso, remembered being the one to hold Steve Trevor in it long ago. She glanced up at the man called Bruce, who kept a respectful distance from them. A man who honored truth but kept his secrets, she imagined.

“I would never deceive you, Princess,” she said solemnly, a hint of insult in her words.

“I know it,” Diana said. “But things are not always simple in Patriarch’s world. Some people can change their appearance or manipulate the minds of others. Let us call it simply a formality, my dear aunt. I will not force you if your honor is insulted.”

And therefore, Menalippe was trapped. She reached out, voluntarily wrapped her long fingers around the warm rope. “I am Menalippe of Themyscira,” she said firmly, meeting Bruce’s eyes defiantly. He nodded at her. Satisfied, Menalippe returned her gaze to Diana. She seemed to see something in Diana’s face that surprised her, because she blinked, then suddenly took a knee, still gripping the glowing lasso.

Curious, Bruce moved slowly around the room until he could see Diana’s face. At first, he thought it was the lasso. He blinked, focused on her again. His eyes didn’t deceive; Diana herself was giving off a gold glow. He forced himself to attend to their conversation, not to stare.

Menalippe continued. “The Oracle to the Goddess spoke to the Queen. Hippolyta’s offering to the oracle was accepted.”

“What did she offer?” Diana demanded, interrupting. “The Oracle lay dormant for centuries. For years, she slept, untempted by any tribute we brought.”

Menalippe sighed. “Your mother tried every year since you left to coax the oracle because she yearned to know if you were safe, princess. It is as you said; the oracle lay dormant. This year your mother offered the Oracle a lock of your hair that she had kept since the first time it was trimmed. And the Oracle woke.”

Diana glanced at Bruce. “Our Oracle is a stone woman holding Themyscira’s sacred flame. For as long as I have lived, the flame has burned, but the woman has slept.”

Bruce nodded, mouthing “thank you” at Diana. Menalippe stood, still holding the lasso, and shooting Bruce a look he could only describe as sulky. She took up the story again.

“The Oracle opened her eyes and became as real as you or I, Diana. Her hands were cupping the flame, so she shifted it to one palm and used the other to take the lock of your hair. She said, ‘Hippolyta, your gift is worthy. Now ask your question.’ And the Queen said, ‘Is my daughter Diana alive and well?’”

“Of all the questions to ask an all-knowing oracle,” Bruce scoffed, settling on the sofa to observe the women. He munched on cheese and crackers, while Menalippe sputtered. Diana smirked at him, and he suddenly wanted to do anything to keep that look on her face.

“Her only daughter, the princess of the Amazons,” Menalippe managed. “Of course...”

“Of course, she’s alive and well,” Bruce interjected. “She’s a demigoddess, blessed by the Pantheon, trained in combat for centuries. It’s a foolish question.”

Diana grinned, enjoying her aunt’s baffled rage. “Perhaps the Queen grew sentimental,” Diana allowed. “How did the Oracle answer?”

After a sideways glare for Bruce, Menalippe turned back to her niece. “Your daughter lives, but well she will only be if she comes to Olympus. For Zeus, King of the Gods, lives once more, and he would reckon with that which is his.”

Diana waited. “And?”

Menalippe shrugged, causing the lasso’s light to scatter around the room. “That’s it, Your Highness. The Oracle returned to stone, gripping your hair in her left hand and cupping the flame in her right.” Menalippe let go of the lasso. Once Diana returned it to her hip, the glow in the room faded.

With a huff, Diana dropped onto the couch next to Bruce, reaching for a cracker and cheese.

“I do not  _ belong _ to Z... to him,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Menalippe settled herself on the edge the chez, sipping water while she eyed the distance between Bruce and Diana’s hips.  “You do well to guard your tongue, your highness. When belief was high, Zeus’s power knew no limits. And now, thanks to the Oracle, all of the Amazons believe again. And thanks to the golden perfect, so do both of you.”

“Hey,” Bruce said, reaching for more cheese. “I’m still a skeptic.”

Menalippe cocked an eyebrow. “You doubt the lasso’s power?”

Bruce shook his head. “No. I know it only forces you to reveal the truth as you believe it.”

Diana smiled. “The perfect will always reveal the truth-- it breaks illusions, restores memories... more than what you have seen and felt, Bruce. But perhaps your skepticism is wise. I do not doubt the truth of what you say you saw or that the Oracle spoke to my mother. But, whether the gods have returned or not... this feels like a trap.”

Bruce crossed his arms like a satisfied teacher observing a star pupil, and opened his mouth to praise her.

“That is why I must go.”

Bruce snapped his teeth shut, and threw up his hands. She grinned at him, then studied her aunt seriously. “If Zeus lives, then perhaps so do the goddesses that we have spent our lives worshiping, aunt. You knew them once; I did not. I yearn to meet them. And if Zeus is... claiming me in some way, I must face him. We must understand one another. I killed his son, after all.”

Menalippe shrugged. “Antiope believed you were fated to do so from the beginning, that Zeus knew and Ares knew too but tried avoid his fate anyway.”

“Whoever it is,” Bruce said, “you’re wise to be suspicious. Perhaps you’re wise enough not to go alone.”

Diana studied him. “Are you not needed in Gotham, then? Want to face the Greek pantheon with me and my aunt?”

Bruce might have spoken then--what he planned to say, he couldn’t tell you-- but Menalippe interrupted.

“We do not need him, Diana. We are Amazons. I am... was Hippolyta’s General, and I have trained for thousands of years for battle. You have the ichor of the gods in your veins, for Hera’s sake. He is but a mortal man.” Her disgust dripped from every word.

Bruce studied the other woman, eyes cold. He might have said he had no time to be bothered with the concerns of possible mediterranean deities, and certainly would have before watching Superman die. He might have pointed out that Menalippe herself had more marks of age than he did. But Diana cut him off.

“You think so, Aunt?” Diana’s voice, of all things, was cooly amused. “You think you have his measure, do you? Perhaps you’d care to challenge him.”

Bruce’s eyebrows shot in the air, and Menalippe shot to her feet, insulted.

“You think I can’t handle myself against this... human?” She spat the term. “Perhaps your years in this world have made you soft, Diana.”

Diana did not stand, only stared into her aunt’s eyes, fists resting on her knees. “Perhaps  _ you _ forget to whom you speak, Menalippe.  Perhaps you doubt my judgement in trusting Bruce-- I who have lived in this world for over one hundred years. Or perhaps you’ve forgotten our guesting laws. These are the only explanations I can think of that you would insult a man who has opened his home to you and fought at your princess’s back.”

By the end of her lecture, Menalippe’s face was white, and Bruce had to contemplate the warm feeling inside his chest, creeping up his neck. He had the errant thought that he was glad Alfred wasn’t here, but then remembered that Alfred was probably monitoring the security cameras, damn him. He decided to go with what was easy, remaining silent and stoic.

Menalippe placed a fist on her heart, bowed shortly toward Diana, the straightened. “Forgive me, Your Highness.” She repeated the gesture to him. “Forgive me, Bruce Wayne of Gotham.”

With a glance at Diana, Menalippe sat again. “I cannot excuse my behavior,” she said, and to Bruce, “Thank you for your hospitality, and for fighting alongside our princess when none of us were able.”

Bruce shrugged it all off, uncomfortable. He considered saying,  _ She saved my life _ , but he didn’t want to discount his own battle skills which Diana was trying to play up. Then he considered saying,  _ I do not blame you for not trusting me; I barely trust you.  _ And he figured Diana, grimly satisfied now, would not appreciate that.

He simply said, “You are welcome.”

Diana let her breath out and relaxed in the sofa. “Tomorrow I will make for Olympus. I welcome both of you to make the journey with me.”

Bruce lifted a finger. She cocked an eyebrow.

“I can make that journey shorter, Diana, if you’re amenable.”

She smiled. “One of your toys, perhaps? One that only you can pilot, I imagine.”

"Naturally.”

“Gotham can spare you?”

He sobered, touched that she continued to honor his own mission. “I have allies, Diana. I can be spared for a time.”

Diana sighed then. “Then perhaps we should all rest.”

Bruce stood, hearing Alfred’s voice in his head. “Follow me, ladies.” He showed the guest rooms, each with an adjoining bathroom, and pointed to his own door should the need anything from him in the night. They were to make his home their own and take anything they might wish from the kitchen, he instructed.

“Thank you, Bruce.” Diana held his gaze for a moment longer than necessary; he tried to place her expression. Wistful? Of what? But she’d already turned to Menalippe, and said kindly, “I prefer to sleep alone tonight, my dear aunt. You have given me much to think on. Perhaps I will be more diligent in my prayers tonight.”

With that, she bid them both goodnight, entered one of the guest rooms, and shut the door quietly. Within seconds, they heard the shower turn on and then, the bathroom door click shut.

Bruce regarded the closed door with interest, and Menalippe said, “She did that so that we could speak privately.”

Bruce turned to the other woman, considering his angle. He decided to take the offensive.

“When will you tell her that you are dying?”

Menalippe blinked in surprise, then her face fell into steely resolve. “I will not. She must not be distracted.”

Bruce considered that decision, decided to let it stand for now. “She left Themyscira and remained immortal because she is part-divine,” he guessed. “But when you left, you were no longer protected by the island. You’re mortal now. And age, it seems, is slowly catching up to you.”

Menalippe curled her upper lip at him. “Do not think not to be afraid of me for such a simple reason,” she said. “I still possess thousands of years of training in this body, and for now, it remains of an age to use that training. So tread lightly, Bruce Wayne.”

He nodded, satisfied. “You will fight better, more cautiously and with more thought now that you know your time is limited. You will want to make the most of each move and countermove. You will want to make the most of your time with your niece, too, and that will keep you from being reckless.”

She studied him, perhaps hearing too much.

“When will you tell my niece that you are in love with her?”

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps I would tell her if it ever became true,” he said.  “As you know, she is good at sussing out the truth.”

Menalippe considered him, and he could not read her face. “So she is,” she said, and retired for the night.

Bruce stared, then shrugged. He went into his own rooms. “Amazons, Greek Gods, and Mount Olympus,” he muttered at the computer, checking the security system.

“Yes, an extraordinary night, even for you, Master Wayne,” came Alfred’s voice. His face blinked on one of the monitors, and already, Bruce hated the smirk.

“I am only checking in to bid you goodnight, Master Wayne, and to assure you that I have make the necessary contacts regarding your absence at least a couple days.”

“Sure, that’s the only reason,” Bruce drawled. “Good night, Alfred.”

“Yes, goodnight, sir. May you dream true dreams,” the butler said, in a completely serious tone that promised teasing at Bruce’s return.

But as Bruce rolled over, he stared into the light of his bedside lamp, (He hadn’t slept in the dark for years, after all) and wondered if he was ready to face the truth, even in his dreams.

 

_to be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter-- Olympus.


	3. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey begins, with an intriguing intermission on the flight up.

Chapter 3: Flight

Menalippe glared suspiciously at Bruce's toy. She eyed it as if it were viper preparing to strike, instead appealing to Diana. "Your Highness, you could fly us there, or we could travel as Amazons do- on a horse or on our own two feet."

Diana, who'd gratefully accepted Wayne Enterprises' offer of tea and biscuits, lounged at a table while Bruce laughed with some other staff in the hangar. She sipped her tea, amused at the snippets of conversations she caught. Bruce was definitely talking about them, gesturing toward herself and her aunt, and elbowing the other men, who howled. She rolled her eyes.

"My dear aunt, I prefer not to fly around Man's World so flippantly. It disturbs people, and if one doesn't avoid the clouds, you simply end up cold and soaked. I rely on that particular skill in emergency situations."

Menalippe finally sat at the table with Diana, turned her baleful gaze on the biscuits and tea, ignoring them for now. "I can't imagine what your mother would have had done if that particular ability had surfaced while you still resided on the island." She kept a sharp eye on Bruce and the machine she suspected would be the end of her.

Diana smiled. "I almost wish it had, at times. The lessons I could have escaped. It would have given me some thread of advantage over Antiope."

Menalippe's face softened. "She believed training you was the most important task of her life, Diana," she said. "Though, I am sure if we could ask her now, she would say that saving you was even more important."

Diana sighed, setting her tea down gently. "I have spent over one hundred years agonizing over that moment. My first moment in battle, and I was so unaware, overwhelmed by it all. If only I had kept my wits, perhaps she would still be alive. Or perhaps I w0uld have been able to deflect the bullet, or perhaps on me, it would not have been lethal. Perhaps I could have healed quickly enough to live."

Menalippe waved it all off. "Useless thoughts, my lady. Antiope met her fate with grace, and she made her choice." The warrior caved, poured herself some tea. "I miss her too. Every day."

Diana's gaze followed Bruce as he boarded the sleek black ship. Once he wasn't visible anymore, she turned to her aunt. "What do you think she would say," Diana wondered, "about her one true love leaving Themyscira forever?"

Unexpectedly, Menalippe grinned. "Nice try, princess, but I have no doubt that if she still lived, Antiope would, after plenty of soul-searching about leaving her beloved sister behind, volunteer to accompany me. Together, we would search for you, fight at your back on whatever mission the gods lay at our feet. And since she is not here, that is what I will do."

"What  _we_  will do."

Menalippe jumped slightly in her chair while Diana hid a knowing smirk behind her teacup. '"Is your toy satisfactory, Mr. Wayne?" she asked, cutting of Menalippe from whatever she'd been about to say.

He nodded, solemn again now that the audience had withdrawn. "It's a prototype, and has passed all the initial safety tests. And if the owner says he intends to take it out to show two beautiful women a bird's-eye-view of Europe, that's what happens. Ladies, after you." He hefted his backpack, gestured for them to go on ahead.

With a long-suffering sigh, Menalippe stood, prepared to march on board. "It's like a boat," they heard her say. "A boat that flies." And like an Amazon, charged straight into the fray.

Bruce and Diana followed behind her. "It's a lovely ship," Diana commented. "Reminds me of something a friend of mine might appreciate."

Bruce nearly smiled. "He has enough toys. We're calling this type of ship a Javelin. Unlike a plane, this ship can hover, and hopefully, future iterations will capable of high-level cloaking and space flight."

"Impressive," Diana commented, looking around. The door folded up behind her, and she noted that it was more spacious than it looked from the outside. Menalippe had already take a seat and strapped herself in. Her aunt's eyes were slammed shut, and she was murmuring to herself. Diana caught snippets of a prayer to Athena, and wondered, is someone listening now?

"I'm glad you approve," Bruce said, inwardly annoyed that it was true. He strapped himself into the pilot's seat while Diana took co-pilot. He thought about Steve Trevor, the pilot, but refrained from comment. Diana had 100 years in this world now... he didn't doubt she'd had time to learn many skills...and the few days she'd had with Steve wouldn't have been enough time and why was he still thinking about Steve Trevor? He charted a course toward Mount Olympus, asked Diana to look it over while he did the pre-flight check.

"Will you need to land at one of the airports nearby? Thessaloniki or Kozani, perhaps?"

Satisfied with everything he saw, Bruce fired up the engine and guided them out of the hanger and into the air. He pretended not to hear Menalippe shrieking. Once they were on course, he set the autopilot and sat back.

"There's no need. The Javelin can cloak, so we've no need to check in. It can also hover, so we can get as close to the peak as we like and jump out. Then, I can land it at the base and call it up by remote once we are ready to leave again. We will be there in just over an hour."

Diana's eyes shot up, and she glanced out, watching the ground below fly by. "It's fast then," she said with approval. "And is this not a much warm and more comfortable way to travel, aunt?"

Menalippe grunted, eyes still shut as she adjusted to the sensation of flying. "The gods could have waited for us to procure horses and ride up like warriors. Or for the train, even. They've waited this long after all."

Diana smiled. "You are safe, Menalippe, and this part will be over quickly. You can get up, move around if you wish."

The Amazon eased her eyes open, looked around with suspicion. A glance toward the cockpit sent the blood draining from her face. She shook her head. "I will stay right here."

"Very well. May I bring you anything?"

Menalippe shook her head. "I will meditate and pray to the gods. Pay me no mind." She shut her eyes again, became still.

Diana shrugged, unfastening her own seatbelt and stretching her legs. As she walked around the open area behind the cockpit, judging the space available, an idea came to her, one that would serve everyone, perhaps especially her aunt. "So, Mr. Wayne, how trustworthy is the autopilot? Must you watch it carefully?"

In answer, Bruce unfastened his own belt, walked over to the wall fridge in the back, and tossed Diana a bottle of water. Menalippe ignored them both, so he returned the favor. "Why do you ask?" he wondered, sipping a bottle of his own.

Diana's grin went straight through his ribs, sent his heart racing.

"Might you indulge me in some hand-to-hand? There is space enough, I think."

Bruce saw Menalippe's eyes pop open indignantly, her lips separate to protest, but Diana interrupted her aunt.

"What do you say, Bruce?"

And the mischief dancing in her eyes proved too much for him. He slid out of his shoes and socks, tossed his grey sweater towards the cockpit, and began stretching. "I could use a work out," he agreed.

Diana's back was to her aunt, but Bruce enjoyed a clear view of the other Amazon's expression- one part hurt, one part outrage, one part pure bafflement. He didn't smirk at Menalippe, but it took some effort.

Diana toed off her own boots and socks, and tested the flexibility of her leggings and sweater dress with some stretches and practice kicks, grateful she'd elected not to wear jeans. Satisfied, she slid into a fighting stance. "No blows to the head," she proposed.

Bruce nodded, bending his knees. "No weapons or flying." He knew now that she could summon her sword, shield, bracelets, and lasso in an instant. Unlike Superman, she often  _appeared_  to obey the laws of physics, but he knew she could break them, knew that hint of divine magic in her blood aided her.

"Point sparring? Or shall we have contact?" She offered the choice to him, knowing that she had the advantage in strength and healing speed. Point sparring was traditionally no-contact, but could be just as impressive to watch because of the control needed to stop the move centimeters before striking your opponent.

Bruce considered how much he trusted Diana- true, they had not sparred before today, but she was a trained warrior with literally thousands of years under her belt. His own training was hard to rival among mortals. Together, they should be able to avoid truly injuring each other. But he was aware that barring his speed and intellect, Diana could definitely hurt him; she had the advantage in strength.

His usual additional advantages against metas were his weapons, his armor, his "toys" as Diana said. But if powers were out of the picture, Bruce and Diana were much more evenly matched; Superman had no combat training- he'd fought with his brute strength and his powers, not with strategy and years of training as Bruce did.

Perhaps Diana and the Man of Steel would be more evenly matched, as far as metas went. But no use considering that, since Clark was dead and Diana was waiting for an answer.

"Contact," he said. She nodded seriously, and he thought he read respect in her eyes. "Except to the head. First to three, wins."

"You're a fool, Bruce Wayne," Menalippe said from behind Diana, still strapped into her seat. But her eyes were open; she was interested.

"If he was a fool," Diana said with a smile, "then I would be assured of victory. Thankfully, he is not." She clicked her heels, bowed to him slowly while holding his gaze. He mirrored her, and before she'd straightened, he attacked.

It was like their dancing last night, he realized, in that she let him lead. She dodged his kick, spun away from the punch combo, ducked under his follow up kick, and stepped back, bouncing on her feet. His mind calculated her as just slightly faster than him, and he attacked again, switching from taekwondo to judo in an instant. Diana didn't attempt to evade his grapple, but punched him in the gut while his arms were busy. He grunted, took the hit, and hooked her leg with his own, sending them both to the ground with his forearm in her windpipe.

"One point to each," Menalippe announced unnecessarily.

Bruce rolled away from her as she jumped to her feet. She'd pulled her punch, but his diaphragm was still spasming. Straightening his body as he rolled helped. By the time he hopped to his feet, she was lunging. He spun away, threw a kick at her ribs, but she danced away, planted her feet, then leapt into a double kick, her war cry filling the room. He dodged the first, but the second would have crashed into his jaw if she hadn't pulled it at the last second. The sudden change had her crashing to the floor-

"Point to Diana!" Menalippe shouted.

-so Bruce dropped an honest-to-god elbow drop into her ribs. She grunted, threw him off-

"Point to the mortal!"

-and he managed to brace himself before crashing into the shelves, rolling to his feet in time to meet her barrage of chops, kicks, and punches. He analyzed as he blocked each, looking for an opening, not noticing the blows. When he glimpsed his chance, he threw a kick, but she caught his leg, so he lunged forward, grabbed her shoulder and head and threw his whole weight at her, attempting to knee her in the gut to escape the hold, but she let his momentum help her throw him to the ground. He landed in a crouch in front of Menalippe, went on his own offensive, letting the moves take over his body, the analysis take over his mind. Time lost meaning.

She dodged or blocked his every move. And he thought, watching her face tighten in concentration, her quick sling of the sweat from from her eyes,  _she is breathtaking._ Then he growled and lunged at her, wrapping her up like a football player. But, she'd anticipated him, managed to hook one arm between his thighs and use his momentum to flip him and drop him on his back with a roar. Menalippe shouted something, and in the same moment, though his breath was knocked away, Bruce managed to kick Diana's knees out, sending her crashing down on top of him like a lover. Because he could do math, he found himself holding her like one, arms coming up around her to hold her steady. He could feel her heart pounding against his, felt her rapid breaths against his own chest, her breath against his ear. Her pulse tapped against her throat; his eyes followed that long neck, regal jaw, high cheekbones, and rested in her gaze.

Menalippe said something, but her words were meaningless, because Diana, draped on top of him, hair matted against her face, make-up running... Diana met his eyes and grinned.

Bruce swallowed, and for the first time in years, his mind went blessedly blank.

"We..." Diana said, winded, "... must do that again... Properly."

"Yes...You were... holding back," he said, aware of every inch of her body touching his. He desperately tried to look away from her lips and focus on the solid biceps under his hands and how she could kill him with them. He imagined how easy it would be for her in hopes that other, more rogue parts of his body would behave in the face of his own mortality. It did help, especially when he remembered that her kick that would have broken his jaw at the very least if she hadn't pulled it.

Thankfully, she hefted herself off of him, and stood. He accepted her offered hand and stood as well. "Of course I was," she said, holding on to his hand an bowing over it. "I do not want to harm you. And I did not hold back in speed- you are very fast in your own right, Bruce." She released his hand, but held his eyes with her own.

She was faster, he knew, but still savored the impressed tone of her voice. "Good thing, too," he said, rubbing the jaw she would have broken. She smiled again, through those long eyelashes, and time stumbled again.

Menalippe cleared her throat, and the unspoken tension in the room popped.

"The match goes to the princess," she announced, but studied Bruce with new respect. "As the rule was first to three. The mortal got to three several seconds too late. But you, Bruce Wayne. You must be more than who you say you are. Where is it you said you were from?"

He cracked his neck, tried to shake out some of his limbs, snuck a look at Diana. She shrugged, as if to say,  _it's up to you._

"Gotham," Bruce said, locating some bar towels and tossing some to Diana. He wiped his forehead, neck, arms, and waited.

"Gotham," Menalippe mused, then snapped her fingers. "The human announcers... they said your city is full of crime, that a masked vigilante lives there, calls himself the Batman." She smirked, connecting the dots.

"To be fair," Bruce said, "I never actually called myself that."

Diana wiped her own brow, tied her hair back. "As I said, Menalippe, Bruce is a warrior in his own right. But his identity as Batman is secret, known to a trusted few. The safety of many innocent people in Gotham City depend upon it remaining secret."

Menalippe heard the unspoken in Diana's words. "Very well, Bruce Wayne," she said, studying him with new eyes. "I will guard your secret. And I will trust you. For now. Your fighting skills impress me; it was uncanny how you seemed to anticipate Diana. I am impressed that you got any hits in at all."

"Well, she was holding back," Bruce said.

"Of course she was," Menalippe scoffed.

Diana smiled, as comfortable with her victory as she was with its narrow margin. That, after all, had been a necessary part of the demonstration's original purpose- impressing her aunt.

"Bruce was holding back too," Diana said. He startled, glancing at her. She shrugged, still serene. "In a fair contest, you would not actually fight fairly," she said, pleased with the play on words. "I may have several advantages over Bruce Wayne, but against Batman, Wonder Woman would be fairly evenly matched."

Menalippe scoffed again, and Bruce almost smiled. "Sure. Until you called down the thunderbolts of the gods or decided to simply fly away," he said. Though Alfred was working a new armor design with Diana's lightning in mind.

Diana grinned. "Nothing wrong with an honorable retreat to regroup against a worthy foe."

Menalippe saw Antiope in Diana's grin the same way she'd seen Antiope in many of Diana's techniques, a connection she reflected on with pride. But Menalippe also recognized the way Diana and Bruce had looked at each other, limbs tangled, heaving as they tried to catch their breath... she recognized the look in her niece's eyes. It had been a sparring match where Antiope and Menalippe had first kissed, after all. She would have to watch this man, the Batman, very carefully.

Bruce had walked into the cockpit to check their location. "Not long now," he said.

XXX

Once the Javelin was hovering over the mountain, they discussed their plan. They would start at the summit and head down. The Javelin could be called up by remote in the case of an emergency, or if they needed more food or water. The hike could be done in a single day in a hurry, two if not. Bruce had revealed that he had a spare suit in his backpack, with a grapple and stocked utility belt. Diana had smiled, not surprised in the slightest. Menalippe revealed her own armor underneath the loose street clothes, and Diana had seemed to go from sweater dress to Amazonian champion armor in the blink of an eye. Her sword and shield were fastened at her back, lasso resting at her hip. Both women sported long warm cloaks to ward off the chill of elevation.

"Any idea what to expect down there?" Bruce asked Menalippe.

She shrugged. "The Oracle's words were few."

Diana stood at ease at the Javelin's open side door. "No specification that I come alone," she reminded herself aloud. "No sense in delaying the inevitable." She glanced at her compatriots. "I'd ask if either of you wanted a lift, but it's honestly not that far. This machine is remarkable." And she'd simply hopped out. Bruce watched as she seemed to fall at normal speed until slowing at the last instant. Her feet set gently down on the summit trail. She really didn't make a habit of flying, he noticed, filing that information away.

He brought the Javelin down a bit so he and Menalippe could follow suit, then he sent the Javelin down to cloak itself and charge.

"Why are you doing this dressed that way?" Menalippe wondered, gesturing towards his Bat regalia.

Bruce, voice modulator on, said, "It's warm."

Diana laughed. Menalippe shrugged.

Bruce looked around, seeing nothing outside of the ordinary- though had he spoken aloud, Diana might have reminded him that the view at the summit of Olympus was anything but ordinary. Bruce said, "I imagine we are not here simply to appreciate the view and commune with nature."

Diana nodded, looking around, taking in it all. "This mountain is sacred, but according to legend, the gods exist primarily on another plane of reality. What we see may not be all that exists here. If they are truly returning to power... we will only see the gods if they wish us too."

Together, they began to carefully navigate the peak, circling the area near the top and beginning to pick their way down. Diana especially took a long study of the view with an awed expression, with just a hint of longing before heading down.

"Which ones blessed you, Diana?" Bruce wondered as they climbed.

She smiled, testing a foothold before heading down. Not for herself, he knew, since she could fly and catch herself, but for him. He was coming down after her, with Menalippe up ahead. Though, Bruce had fallen off of enough high places to always prepare.

"Hera, for she is Queen of the Gods, and Zeus, of course, for he gave me life." Menalippe snorted, but Diana didn't delve into the logistics, and Bruce didn't ask. "But my official patrons are Athena, Artemis, Aphrodite, Hestia, Demeter, and Hermes."

Bruce filed the knowledge away, ticking off various characteristics- wisdom, hunting, beauty, home, nature, and speed/flight- as she listed the deities. It all tracked. The rest of his mind focused on observing his surroundings-listening for sounds that didn't fit, looking around and cataloging what he saw, minding his companions. They wandered the summit, slowly picking their way down for about a half hour in focused silence.

Diana stopped heading downward. She wandered toward an outcropping, crouching down near the edge, taking in the view. Before Bruce could finish inwardly mocking himself for wanting to tell her to not to get so close to the edge, she wasn't alone there.

"Diana!" he barked, sensing Menalippe tense at his left. Diana, understandably unconcerned with falling, shot to her feet. Her fighting stance dissolved into a kneel almost immediately.

"My lord, you honor us," she said, and the figure coalesced into a wiry young man with shaggy blond hair and golden skin, sporting winged sandals, a long white tunic belted with gold, and a winged helm.

"Hermes?" Menalippe remained on her feet, utterly dumbfounded.

The young man barely spared a glance for her and Bruce, instead focusing on Diana at his feet. "My dear sister," he said, and Bruce would have qualified it as  _gushing_ , "What in Gaia's name was that miraculous machine you rode here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you loved the sparring scene!


	4. The Hunt Begins

_"My lord, you honor us," she said, and the figure coalesced into a wiry young man with shaggy blond hair and golden skin, sporting winged sandals, a long white tunic belted with gold, and a winged helm._

_"Hermes?" Menalippe remained on her feet, utterly dumbfounded._

_The young man barely spared a glance for her and Bruce, instead focusing on Diana at his feet. "My dear sister," he said, and Bruce would have qualified it as gushing, "What in Gaia's name was that miraculous machine you rode here?”_

Diana slowly rose, then stood at what must have been attention: left arm behind her back and the other first over her heart, feet set.

“My lord Hermes, it is called a Javelin,” she answered. Bruce was pleased to note that she didn’t have the same starstruck expression that Menalippe wore. Instead, she watched the deity carefully through her respectful gaze.

“At ease, my dear,” Hermes said, leaning over the edge to peer down. He leaned far enough that he tumbled down but his winged sandals and helm gave off a golden glow, and he floated in midair. “I cannot see it from here,” he said, disappointed. His feet settled back on the earth.“But what a sight it was. Only slightly less exciting than it might have been to see you fly up like the sister of Hermes you are.” His tone turned chiding, and he crossed his arms.

Diana smiled. “I do not often use your gift among the mortals without necessity, my lord. It frightens them. And I am not so divine that I am immune to the clouds and bugs, such as yourself.”

He laughed, delighted.

“My lord, may I present my aunt, Menalippe of Themyscira, General to Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons.”

Menalippe bowed from the waist, straightened again.

“And my friend and comrade, the Batman of Gotham City, the Dark Knight and the World’s Greatest Detective.”

The man in question simply stared. Diana hid a smile. To Bruce and Menalippe, she said, “May I present Hermes, the Swift-Footed One, Friend of Travelers, and Messenger of the Gods.”

Hermes offered a bow and came up with a flourish. “Thank you, sister. Well met, travelers. Welcome to Olympus.”

Diana and Hermes came down from the outcropping, joining Menalippe and Bruce. Bruce watched the messenger god with open suspicion; Menalippe, for once, seemed beyond speech.

“My lord Hermes,” Diana said, “We thought you and all of the Olympians were dead, killed by Ares.”

Hermes scowled, tossing his hair. “Of course you did, because who was left to spread the stories? Ares himself. There is truth mixed in, of course--Queen Hippolyta is trustworthy, after all. All of us followed Zeus to defend the Amazons; we were entranced by your sisters, just like the world of men. And Ares did attack us.”

Menalippe said, “My lord Hermes, I was there, beside Hippolyta and Antiope and all of my sisters in that battle. We could see the battle in the skies; we saw Ares strike you down.”

Hermes nodded at her, a spark of recognition in his eyes. “Of course you did, Menalippe,” he agreed. “Ares attacked and weakened us all significantly, even Zeus himself. Zeus created Themyscira as one of his final acts on this mortal plane, and left behind the Godkiller so that Ares could be defeated once more.” Here, he smiled at Diana. “And so she did. Well done, my sister.”

Bruce tensed when Hermes touched Diana’s face. She, however, continued to watch the god, her face carefully neutral. If Bruce recalled his lessons accurately (and he always did), Hermes was also the Trickster of the Greek pantheon.

“For millennia, we have been unable to cross over to this plane, especially as our worship waned. Even my half-brother Ares who managed to stay on the mortal plane, was weak for so long, until your Great War broke out and gave him strength. We did not die; it only appeared so, both to your eyes and even to Ares. All these years, we have been on the other side of the veil, watching, barely able to influence anything at all.”

“What changed?” Bruce’s question rumbled through his voice modulator.

Hermes gave Bruce a longer, more curious glance, but his eyes were inevitably drawn back to Diana. “She did,” the Messenger said with an affectionate glance. “Diana, one hundred years ago, there was an entire village that believed in goddesses again. Their belief woke us from our lethargy; we too were outraged when their lives were cut short.”

Diana’s face hardened, but her lips trembled.

“And yet, some believers survived,” Hermes continued. “Sammy. Charlie. Napi. Etta. Steve, for a time. They saw Ares, and believed he was real. They saw you, what you could do. They believed in you. And though you hid your nature from many, you did not hide it fully, my dear sister. Every child you rescued, every woman you saved, every civilian you rescued during wartimes... they saw glimpses of your divinity, and believed. Your aunt Antiope believed; now, so too does Menalippe.”

Diana risked a glance at her aunt, who nodded slowly, a half smile barely moving her lips.

“And even this man--- the skeptic of skeptics!!-- he believes. He sees me now, but more importantly, he knows you. He believes.”

Bruce glared at Hermes, but said, “I see you both, but don’t count me among your devotees.”

Diana smirked, and Hermes waved that off, as if Bruce had said something nonsensical. “Not mine, certainly,” he said, looking significantly at Diana.

Menalippe coughed, and Diana, feeling awkward, asked hastily, “My lord Hermes-- the god of war.... does he live?”

Even through his scowl, Hermes was beautiful, almost androgynous. “In a way, my-half brother lives, but you need not lose sleep over him, Diana. You borrowed the powers of Zeus in that moment, one hundred years ago, and like Zeus once had the power to do, you sent Ares to Tartarus with a thunderbolt. It would take another divine action to free him, and none of us are lining up to do it, even my father himself. I would not worry, dear sister.”

Menalippe muttered, “Good riddance,” but Diana appeared troubled.

“I do not regret my actions, as Ares sought to spark an endless war that would destroy all of patriarch’s world,” she said, “yet... he was family. I would not have wished Tartarus on him.”

Hermes waved that carelessly away. “Of course not, you are blessed with Athena’s righteousness. Besides, you may count the rest of the Olympians alongside the Amazons among your family now, Diana. You yourself could claim a seat among us, one day. Zeus has made mention of wanting to instate you as Goddess of Truth.”

Inside, Bruce reeled, but fought it ruthlessly down to maintain his neutral gaze. Menalippe was not so skilled; her mouth hung upon almost comically. Diana, however, mimicked Hermes in waving the suggestion thoughtlessly away.

“Zeus is most gracious, of course, but I shall have to speak with him about this. I feel I have work yet to do here in patriarch’s world. They have lost one of their great heroes; they need protection that I can help provide.”

Hermes nodded solemnly. “You mean to replace the Kryptonian, yes. I would caution you to know that you are not quite so invulnerable as he, Diana, but then again... you are here and he is not. Even he was not infallible, and you have trained for centuries; he did not. You could be an excellent successor for him, dear sister, if you are willing to be as visible as he was.”

As Diana pondered this, Hermes sent a sympathetic look towards Bruce. “We watched the battle from our side of the veil. You, Bruce Wayne, surprised us all. Athena herself was intrigued, but we we are too weak to interfere. Just crossing over into your plane, as I am now, takes some doing, but it’s getting easier. Perhaps in another few centuries, things will be different. Then, perhaps, you may want to join us.”

Bruce struggled to stay present, remembering suddenly, vividly, that Diana, being half-divine, was as immortal as Hermes. Not quite the same as the gods perhaps, as she was not invulnerable in the same way they were. She could heal quickly, but an undeflected bullet or knife, aimed with precision, could do the job. And she would die, so far as anyone knew, rather than fade away to the spirit realm of Olympus. Bruce hoped not to find out, hoped she would outlive him. Yet, knowing he would continue to age, while she would not... He forced himself to tune back in.

“... the reason why Zeus has summoned me here?” Diana was asking.

Hermes positively chortled. “Why?! My dear sister! To show you off, of course! What does Zeus love more than setting challenges before mortals and demigods? What nonsense did your oracle say, again? Ah, yes. To “reckon” with you! The Great Father has summoned you to Olympus to meet each of your patrons and pass a challenge. I am simply the first of them all, and Zeus, of course, will be last.”

Diana suspected she was meant to be pleased by the great honor extended to her, but she flicked a glance over to her companions and instead felt regret that they’d been pulled into this divine game. The gods may be her patrons, but Diana didn’t doubt there would be considerable time and risk involved in their tests, even if Zeus simply desired to test her mettle in a way that would make her look good to the pantheon.

“That sounds invigorating, my lord, but time-consuming. Perhaps we might release my companions.”

Bruce straightened, the refusal to leave her already on his open lips, but Menalippe was faster.

“Send me not from your side, Diana,” she said sharply. “I am loyal. I will protect you.”

Diana glanced at her, offered an appreciative smile. If she was tempted to clarify that she needed no protection, she did not give in. And then her eyes flicked to Bruce.

He felt her gaze deep in his chest, but he tried to affect nonchalance, crossing his arms. “I’m already here, Princess,” he said. And he left it at that. Diana gave a deep nod in response, the ghost of a smile hiding in her eyes.

Hermes watched these exchanges with interest, and under his fascinated grin, the silence became awkward. Bruce, ever inscrutable behind his cowl, simply stared. Menalippe shot the Dark Knight an annoyed look, then decided to ignore him. Hermes grin widened, and Diana deigned to roll her eyes.

“Well,” she said, smiling some. “Let it at least be declared that my two companions may come and go from this quest as they please.”

Both companions in question opened their mouths to comment on this, but Hermes simply said, “Of course. They’ve only to shout my name at any time, I shall return them to this very spot. Now, off we go!” He lifted his hands, clapped twice, and a bright light blinded them all.

XXX

When Bruce opened his eyes, he saw a lush wood filled with a shimmery fog. The gentle sounds of a river flowing tickled his ears, and he turned, seeing a dark wide line of water heading into the woods. The sight, beautiful though it was, filled him with some untraceable sadness.

Diana, he thought suddenly, and she was there, gently touching his left hand and then pulling away. Next to her, Menalippe stood, tense and angry in her crimson and gold armor. Had she been wearing that on the Javelin?

“Diana,” she hissed, raising a spear she certainly hadn’t brought on the Javelin. “Do you know where....”

“To the River Styx,” came Hermes’ voice behind them. Diana and Bruce whirled, but Menalippe’s focus was on the River. In the fog, she thought she could make out the outline of a boat and a rider...

“I hope you have your coin, Diana,” Hermes said. “If you aren’t keen on joining the Pantheon, your mission in Man’s World may bring you here again soon than you think.”

Menalippe paled visibly, which sent Bruce’s instincts on alert. But Diana merely slid two fingers under her gold belt and produced a shiny coin. “I am always prepared, brother,” she said. “And as a warrior, I never expected to live as long as I have anyway. If I fall, I know you will not fail to lead me to the ferryman. Perhaps then, I may be reunited with those who have gone before me.” She slid the coin back in its place, and paused a moment to study the approaching ferry with solemn eyes. Then she sighed, turned away from Styx. “One day far from now, if I am lucky.”

The boat appeared to be getting closer, Bruce noted, and Menalippe was still pale, eyes fixed on the shadow.

Hermes merely smiled, pleased with her faith. “Of course, I’ll not fail you, dear Sister. And I trust Charon is not coming for any of us at this moment. But this place is a crossroads, and we could not but pass by. Now come, we go to meet the first lady in the woods, and as god of travelers, I am fit to guide you.”

“Do you not have a test for me, Lord Hermes?” Diana wondered, following him into the treeline.

Bruce noticed that the man didn’t exactly walk, but float; his winged sandals kept him alight above the ground.

“You have already passed it, my dear,” Hermes said over his shoulder, continuing to float through the trees.

Bruce cocked an eyebrow, surprised that the Greek Pantheon’s trickster would let Diana off so easily.

“Have I?” she wondered.

Hermes hummed in assent. “Certainly. You have demonstrated faith in me as your guide, and you have left the Ferryman behind to follow me. I have seen you fly. As your patron, all of this pleases me. But perhaps most noteworthy is this: not many who have lost as many loved ones to death as you have, Diana, would turn their back on the River. This terrible temptation was my challenge, and you have passed.”

Diana did not look back, Bruce noticed, and her answer to Hermes was lost in the wind as Bruce himself turned back to study the river and check for Menalippe. With fear and longing warring on her face, the Amazon gazed toward the approaching ferry.

“Menalippe,” Bruce said.

She jumped, and the vulnerable emotions settled into stone as she scowled at him. “I come,” she snapped, and jogged lightly past him to catch up with Diana and Hermes.

Bruce turned without another thought to the strange boat in the mist; perhaps, before he met Clark and Diana.

XXX

As they went deeper into the woods, Menalippe eventually stomped to the head of the line alongside Hermes to begin her own interrogation. Amused with her aunt, Diana dropped back to walk with Bruce, who still wore his cowl. She didn’t begrudge him; though she didn’t hide her face, the legends of the Wonder Woman were still barely whispers from ghosts.

“You were not tempted by the river, Bruce,” she observed, matching his pace.

He enjoyed the sound of his name on her lips entirely too much. He shrugged, as if dislodge the warmth in his chest. “Not this time, Princess.” He considered some of his darker years... his parents... losing Jason... Barbara’s paralysis.... “There might have been moments where it would have been harder to resist the temptation earlier in my life.”

He offered it expecting her to ask questions, surprised at his willingness to answer. But Diana merely mulled over his answer with an empathetic nod, which troubled him.

“You have led a difficult life,” she ventured quietly. “Yet I can’t imagine you ever having the impulse to give up.”

Was he really discussing suicidal thoughts with Diana? It was surreal and disturbing, yet he felt little of his usual compunction to hide.

“I could say the same for you, Princess,” he said. “But you’re right. I never truly considered ending my life. I’m not a religious man, and I never have been. I never thought death would be means to see my parents again. It would simply be an ending. And I was too driven by my mission, even when I was young, to consider ending myself. Depression, believe it or not, was not my particular burden. But I have other weaknesses; not all of Bruce Wayne’s exploits were staged.”

Diana glanced at him, treasuring this confession for the rare gem that it was. She smiled as he lifted a branch from their path. “I feel that I understand this part of you, Bruce; it feel familiar to me, this sense of being driven. For most of my life, I was simply driven to please my mother, to impress Antiope. Then I left Themyscira, and I took on a new mission in Patriarch’s World. And it is a surprising mission, for a lifelong warrior, to be a peacemaker.

“But I was tempted, at times, to hasten the end. I am a warrior; I do not fear death. And I have always believed in the gods, so I always knew I would see Antiope and Steve in the underworld again someday.”

Bruce’s mind rebelled, as it always did, against the unexplainable. “I highly doubt Captain Trevor was a devotee of the Greek Pantheon,” he said.

Diana smiled. “No, Steve was a Christian as you might have guessed. But there can be many paths to the same destination, Bruce Wayne. I devote myself to my patrons; others may choose Christ or Allah or Shiva or the Buddha; still others follow their own moral compass and experience the spiritual world in other ways. They are all valid expressions of our humanity if they teach us to love our neighbor, to welcome strangers, to protect the vulnerable. Many paths; one destination.”

Bruce could hear birds singing in the woods, could trace the sunbeams breaking in through the canopy. The sense of peace that flooded him gave Bruce the inexplicable urge to reach for Diana’s hand. His fingers twitched. He said, “Perhaps humanity would not have started so many wars over religion if more shared your views, Diana.”

Diana, it seems, did not resist the urge. She took Bruce’s hand, squeezed gently as they walked. “You are too kind,” she said. And Bruce wondered if anyone had ever said that to him and actually meant it, as she clearly did.

“I have my own failings,” she continued. “For a peacemaker, I am still inclined to a quick temper. I have taken lives in battle. I am given to periods of melancholy, when homesickness or loneliness overwhelms me. I am impulsive, and some would say, self-righteous.” She said it all with a little smirk, completely comfortable with this assessment of herself. But she sobered when she said, “And I have hidden myself from the history books and the television cameras, Bruce, in favor of keeping my anonymity.” Her grip tightened, just the tiniest increase of pressure.

He waited a beat, then wondered, “Are you expecting me, of all people, to judge you?”

She shrugged. “Clark and I are similar in many ways. Perhaps in battle we would be close to evenly matched; or perhaps I am being pompous,” she said, laughing at herself. “But the world knew him,” she concluded, sobering again. “They did not know Clark, perhaps, but they knew Superman. But for me? The world does not know Diana or Wonder Woman. Perhaps I could have been more visible, done more over the years.”

Bruce glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, marveling that he still held her hand in his. Perhaps it was this magical wood, he mused, making him soft. Perhaps he should let go. Yes. any minute now.

“You do not need to be recognized by the masses, Diana, in order to make their lives better. You already do that.”

Her grip tightened again. “Bruce,” she said, but her next words were lost. Her eyes widened. “Down!” she shouted, and pulled them both to the ground. He heard her grunt, and he rolled into crouch. A golden arrow embedded in a tree, an angry red line seeping blood down Diana’s arm, Hermes and Menalippe shouting all registered in an instant. But when he whirled to confront the threat, batarang in hand, Diana seized his throwing arm by the wrist.

“My lady,” she called, though Bruce saw no one but their own party, “our apologies. We meant no offense.”

Diana pulled Bruce to his feet as a woman dropped from the trees in front of them, silver bow and arrow in hand. She wore a short tunic in the palest ice blue, a golden belt, and her wavy black hair bound up in a silver circlet, out of her face but for a few wild curls. She gave off a soft silver glow, not unlike moonlight. She glared at Bruce.

“Diana,” she said incredulously. “This man dares to touch you?”

Diana lowered herself to one knee, heedless of the blood covering one arm. The wound wasn’t closing, he noted with concern.

“My lady Artemis,” Diana said. “This man is my friend. Hermes has brought us and my aunt Menalippe into your wood as guests.”

Artemis, Bruce remembered, had been the goddess of the hunt, the moon, the wilderness, and perhaps most relevant at the current moment, virginity. She spared Hermes a baleful look, then shouldered her bow. She twirled the arrow she’d been ready to fire.

“You, sister, I expected,” the goddess said, frowning deeply. “But I have suffered few men but my brothers into my forrests. And certainly none with a mind to defile my sister.” She glared at Bruce; she’d been aiming at him, Bruce realized. Not Diana.

Bruce glared back, ignoring Menalippe sputtering in outrage behind them. Hermes stomped to the front, placing himself between them all and Artemis.

“Oh, and you decided to shoot first and ask questions later, I see. They are travelers and under my protection,” Hermes declared. “And also, you missed. You hit Diana.”

Artemis crossed her arms, transferring her glare to her brother. She pointed at him. “Take back that blasphemy,” she declared. “I did not miss. Diana moved. She is not predictable, like prey. She shielded him.”

Artemis turned, studied her half-sister, and a pleased smile split her face. “And she is fast. You are fast, my sister. Well met, Diana of Themyscira.”

“Of course, she’s fast,” Hermes declared, outraged. “The swiftness of Hermes, remember?!”

“Am I not the The Sure-Footed One?” Artemis challenged, before returning her attention to Diana.

Figuring no apology was forthcoming, Diana stood and offered a bow. “My lady.” Beside her, Bruce very grumpily set about cleaning her wound and tying a field dressing over the gash on her arm, muttering under his breath. Though his work stung fiercely and her arm throbbed, Diana smiled.

While Artemis and Menalippe greeted one another and Hermes fretted, Diana whispered to Bruce, “Artemis’s arrows were forged by Hephaestus himself; they are divine weapons. I imagine my wound will be slow to heal. So thank you.”

He replaced his supplies back into his utility belt, nodded shortly. “No, thank you. I’m certain I would fare even worse.” He said it bluntly, unbothered by his mortality.

Diana nodded, confirming his suspicion. “Indeed. It’s a flesh wound, and I’ll heal....at a normal speed. It should be humbling experience for me,” she teased.

“I wouldn’t be so cavalier,” he said quietly. “Any vulnerability of yours could be exploited by them.”

She sobered, nodding. The wound was in her dominant arm, so she tested her range of motion, wincing slightly. Bruce frowned, but she continued to stretch and move it until she was used to the sensations. She nodded again to herself, then turned back to their companions.

Menalippe was eyeing the gods with a mixture of suspicion and awe. The two divine beings had returned to arguing about who had blessed Diana with her speed. Diana interrupted.

“My lady Artemis,” she called. “Zeus has summoned me to your realm to face the tests of my patrons. Hermes was so good as to guide me to you; I am honored to prove myself.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, but the goddess lapped it up, and sincerity oozed from Diana’s every word. She could be nothing but honest and sincere, after all.

Artemis returned the arrow she’d been twirling to her quiver and finally focused on Diana. “Right.” There was something wild about her, in her messy hair and the twigs, dirt, and leaves that clung to her body and clothes. Her expressions and mannerisms were not quite right, as if she was not used to interacting much with others.

The goddess raised her fingers to her lips and whistled sharply. Baying and barking sounded in the distance and the rumbling of little paws pounding on the ground sounded; seconds later, Artemis was surrounded by eager hounds. She knelt, greeting them all with joy and affection.

“Sometime today, perhaps, my dear sister,” Hermes grumbled, floating in the air and turning a lazy flip with his winged sandals.

Artemis stood, ignoring her half-brother. “How else would I test you, Diana of Themyscira, but with a hunt?” she cried. The hounds howled their approval, and when Artemis lifted her hand, they quieted, waiting on alert. An instant later, a glowing silver stag shot through the clearing and then vanished again into the wood.

“Bring me the Silver Stag as a sacrifice!" Artemis cried, the hounds baying in response to her shout, each vibrating with the need to give chase. “And do it before I loose the hounds. Go!”

Diana shot into the air like an arrow from a quiver, quickly disappearing in the trees.


	5. The Hunters and the Hunted

“Diana!” Menalippe cried, watching her niece fly off in pursuit of the stag. “Should we follow?” She hissed the question to Bruce, who had jerked as if to give chase.

Bruce paused, considering. He and Menalippe would be hard-pressed to keep up with Diana in this setting. Sure, he could grapple and leap around the trees, but to what end? This particular task didn’t seem dangerous. Hermes, who had been appalled to see Diana injured, was now floating in the air, kicked back and appearing to lounge in an invisible chaise, looking bored. 

Artemis settled on the ground, barking a Greek word at her hounds so they all settled down to wait for her command. Some sat, some flopped on their sides. “You need not fear, Menalippe,” Artemis said, once they were settled. “I mean Diana no harm; she will not likely struggle with the physical aspects of my challenge; that is not the test.” 

Despite sparing little trust for the Greek deities before him, Bruce too decided not to give chase. Diana could handle this one on her own.

“If the physical hunt is not the test, then... what is, my lady?” Menalippe wondered. 

Bruce considered his previous lessons in Greek mythology, studying the goddess of the wild as she cooed to her dogs. But as he watched, he realized that it wasn’t the sort of mindless chatter people offered their pets. There were pauses, where Artemis was quiet and then the dog in question would bark or chuff back at her. They were communicating, he realized. 

He took a seat on tree stump, stretching out his legs and debating removing his cowl to let his face breath a bit. “I imagine the test has more to do with the actual animal than the hunting of it,” he ventured.

Artemis smiled, stroking the head of dog who sighed in bliss. “You are wise, Batman,” she said. “I will loose my hounds in a few moments, but I do not doubt Diana will be faster.”

Menalippe, who eyed the floating Hermes with distrust, settled on the ground, cross-legged. “Diana is an excellent hunter,” she said with pride. Menalippe recalled teaching Diana those very skills alongside Antiope. Even from a young age, hunting was not Diana’s favorite past time, but practical child that she was, she saw the need for it. Of course, not every Amazon was a vegetarian, though Diana herself chose to be so early in her life, bemusing some of her sisters. Menalippe loved lamb and fish and declared her niece to be missing the gods’ greatest gifts; Antiope had laughed at her. Menalippe closed her eyes against the pang of grief deep in her belly.

Nearby, Artemis leaned back on her elbows, studying the Amazon with a piercing blue gaze. “Of course she is, with my blessing. But you, Menalippe-- you are not hunting but running.”

Menalippe startled back into the present. After a few long seconds, she looked away from the goddess and did not answer. Bruce watched the treeline, feeling antsy.

“You are both Diana’s patrons,” he said.

Hermes’s eyes popped open, curious. He floated down to Bruce’s eye level, and Artemis turned her annoyed gaze on the Dark Night. “Yes,” they both said.

“And you want what is best for her.” Despite his bland tone, all of the Bat’s skepticism seethed beneath the words.

Artemis’s ice blue eyes blinked, her expression impassive. “I mean my sister no harm,” she said, sounding offended. “I am a protector of women.”

Bruce nodded, as if her answer was the one he expected. He glanced at Hermes. “And you?” 

Hermes tossed his hair and crossed his arms. “I have been waiting to meet Diana for centuries,” he declared. “I have dreamed of flying with her; I have celebrated her triumphs. I’m her guide. She is safe with me.”

Menalippe studied Bruce, spinning her spear in a lazy circle at her side and above her head from her seated position. “What is on your mind, moral?” she wondered. 

Bruce considered his words carefully, and tip-toped. “You’ll have to correct me if the storytellers got it wrong, but from what I remember, the Pantheon is not always a... benevolent group. I seem to recall you all being very... competitive with each other. Manipulative, one might say. At least, that’s how some of the myths go.”

He cocked an eyebrow at the two deities, as if daring them to deny it. But Hermes and Artemis exchanged eye contact and shrugged. 

“Your storytellers are not so far off,” Hermes agreed with a wry grin. Still reclining, he floated up, stretching his legs out leisurely. “We can be right bastards. Even Artemis here can be a vindictive virginal bitch, can’t you honey?”

Artemis huffed, crossing her arms. “You’re ridiculous,” she said to her half-brother. She ignored Bruce entirely, and to Menalippe, she said, “Those of us who are Diana’s patrons may occasionally want to slaughter each other, but we are in one accord regarding Diana. None of us would harm her. We want what is best for her. That said...” she stood, and let out a sharp whistle and barked out a word in Greek. 

Her hounds burst into action, crashing off after Diana and the stag. 

Artemis sat again, at ease. “I’m sure Diana has already caught the stag anyway.”

Bruce watched the dogs disappear into the trees dispassionately, and shared a significant glance with Menalippe. 

“Zeus and Hera... they aren’t Diana’s official patrons,” he said; it wasn’t a question. 

The two Olympians locked eyes, and Menalippe opened her mouth to speak, but her words were lost.

XXX

Diana relished the chase; as much as she demurred about flying, there was nothing more exhilarating. She felt a brief and surprising regret, as she dodged trees, that she hadn’t been able to enjoy flying with Kal-El before his death. She wished she could have known more of Clark Kent and Kal-El; she felt she’d only barely met Superman before his death. And yet... the loss ached in her heart, more than a passing acquaintance or fellow warrior should. 

Improbably... the mere mortal man, the Batman, had survived when the near god-like Superman had not. And also improbably... Diana felt relief.

She zoomed through the woods, thrilling in the release, in the release of her full speed and the using of a skill she mostly hid from the world. The stag galloped ahead of her, growing larger in her sight as she gained on it. It was a stunning creature, like a mundane stag but for it's larger proportions and the soft silver glow and spinning flecks of silver trailing behind it. The animal boasted an impressive set of 12 point antlers, and speed that the Amazon appreciated. It was beautiful.

When she was finally close enough to cut the animal off, she called, “Stop, my friend! I mean you no harm. Be at peace.” 

And, though no one was near to witness the miracle of it all, the stag stopped. She lowered herself to the ground before it, going so far as to kneel. 

“Great brother,” she said. “Truly, I have never seen a creature like yourself.”

The animal did not speak to Diana; such things belonged in fables. No, Diana could sense the creature in a way she could not always sense humans. She sensed in the Stag a feeling of pride, almost preening, at her compliment, for he understood the truth in her words, even if not the words itself. 

“The Goddess of the Wood bade me to catch you; will you submit to return with me to her side?”

The deer scuffed a hoof, chuffed as it shook its head as if in challenge. Diana felt it's hesitance and desire to flee... but she also sensed his reverence for Artemis. Then, surprisingly, she felt the stag’s trust, even affection for Diana herself. It would follow her. She need not even use the lasso as a bridle; it would follow her off a cliff. Sometimes, wild things humbled Diana with their absolute trust in her.

Remembering the command Artemis had given, to bring the stag as a sacrifice, the Amazon sagged a little under the weight of her shame. Could she truly lead this beautiful creature back to the goddess to die? Would she be expected to deliver the killing blow-- shoot it, stab it, or twist its neck? Would she be expected to bring it back already dead? She shuddered. 

Remarkably, the stag moved closer to her, rubbing its flank on her arm. She sensed its apathy towards death. He felt only a desire that Diana no longer be sad. 

“So you understand how a hunt ends, my friend?” Diana murmured. “Surely the goddess of the wood would not want to snuff the light of such a creature, not she who runs with herds and predators.”

In the distance, she heard a sharp whistle, then the baying of hounds. 

“Well, I did catch you before she did that,” she told the deer, who did not care. “But I shall not kill you. If Artemis expects this, she must do it herself. If I disappoint Zeus, then it is only because I respect his creatures. Such magnificence should have life. Now, great brother, will you submit to my carrying you? Just to avoid the teeth of the hounds, not to doubt your speed.” 

She would have been amused by the insult that radiated from the animal, but a low feminine voice interrupted. 

“Daughter of Hippolyta!”

Diana turned slowly, cautious. Then she hit her knees.

XXX

A blinding light filled the clearing, sending them all, Olympian, Amazon, and mortal alike, to their feet. Through the light, a shadowed figure parted the curtains of light, and when the glare faded, Bruce found himself gazing at a tall, curvaceous woman draped in a pale silk gown like molten gold clinging to her skin, with loose waves of rich blonde hair spilling over one shoulder. 

A sound of feminine disgust pierced the instant of silence. 

“You!” Artemis scowled. “Why are you interfering? Diana is completing my challenge!”

The newcomer smiled, and Bruce got the impression of a mountain lion playing with its prey. “My dear sister,” she said, in a sumptuous alto, luxuriating over each syllable. “Forgive the intrusion into your sacred forests,” she said, clearly unrepentant, pulling the final two words into a double entendre. “But I am not here to interfere with you or Diana; I am here for him.”

She ignored Hermes and Menalippe entirely, focusing intently on Bruce with her cat’s smile. 

“I am Aphrodite,” she said.

XXX

Diana’s heart pounded against her ribs; she hadn’t yet dared to look up from where she knelt. Her voice may even have trembled as she said, this time as much a prayer as a greeting: “Great Hera.” She swallowed. “You honor me. Long have I and my sisters sought to bring honor to the Queen of Heaven.”

The goddess queen’s voice had a musical but rough sound. “I can sense your devotion, child,” she said. “Which is all the more trouble to me.”

Surprised, Diana lifted her head. “Trouble, my queen?”

The goddess Hera was striking; rich green eyes and angular features, including an arresting jaw line. She wore a long green tunic with a gold belt, and a golden crown on her head, pulling half of her straight, mahogany hair. Her wide mouth was pressed straight in displeasure, a sight that stung Diana to her core. She was distantly aware of the baying hounds and the stag waiting patiently at her side.

“Trouble,” the goddess confirmed, her frown deepening as Diana’s distress washed over her. “I came to punish you, because unlike your mother, you are now within my reach.”

Diana’s mind whirled, recalling all the stories of Hera’s wrath against all of Zeus’s lovers and the children he fathered out of wedlock while she remained faithful. “My queen, my mother told me that she sculpted me from clay and prayed to Zeus to give me life.”

“Of course she did,” Hera said, and then, annoyed suddenly at the baying hounds, waved an arm and seemed to freeze everything around them. Diana swallowed again, her nerves on alert as her mind wrestled with the reality that she might actually be in danger. Silence reigned in the frozen forest. 

“She told you that and every Amazon that because to lay with a man was to break the Amazon code. To know she had done that... even her sister Antiope may not have supported her continued rule. And Hippolyta is a fierce queen.” Here, grudging admiration simmered under Hera’s words. 

Diana slowly rose to her feet, gripping the lasso in an instinctive search for the truth. “Can it be true?” she whispered, feeling an emptiness yawn open inside of her. “How could my mother have born Zeus’s child, hidden a pregnancy from all of her sisters? How could she have lied to me, to all of us for so long? Can it be true?” 

The lasso glowed softly under her fingers---shaking, as hands did-- but Diana could not find a truth in herself when she did not know it. 

While Diana attempted to search for truth in herself, Hera’s face softened.

“I can’t forgive my husband for you, Diana, Daughter of Hippolyta,” she said, voice disturbingly loud in the silence. “Seeing you reminds me of his betrayal. But there is something about you.... perhaps I will think before striking you down. Am I not the protector of all women, after all?” Her tone turned nostalgic. “I was, once upon a time. And you, you are one of the few women who continues to worship me.”

Uncertainty and confusion clouded Diana’s thoughts, but she still struck her salute, clicking her heels and placing a fist over her heart. “If you speak the truth, my Queen, we have both been grievously wronged.”

Hera considered the Princess of the Amazons, crossing her arms and studying the woman before her. She reached out suddenly, gripping the bandage on Diana’s arm with inhuman strength. Diana’s sharp intake of breath through nose was the only indicator of her pain. Hera smiled, and it was cold and begrudgingly admiring. Her eyes went to the lasso on Diana’s hip.

“Would you not test my word with my sister Hestia’s golden perfect?” 

Diana gripped it tighter, barely knowing she was doing it. Her arm throbbed, and her mind was beginning to process that the Queen of the Heavens, whom she’d worshiped her entire millenia long life, might actually hurt her. “I would not dare to challenge your word, my Queen,” she said. 

Hera laughed, and suddenly time broke free again, bringing with it the sounds of life and of course, the baying of Artemis’s hounds. “You actually mean that,” the Queen of the Heavens said, surprised and bitter. “But I am still inclined to kill you.”

Diana bowed, the betrayal slowly waking into anger. “You may try, Queen Mother. But I am inclined to live.”

Hera’s laughter echoed long after she vanished.

XXX

Bruce watched the goddess of love and sexuality study him. Years of honing an utter control over his body--either in feigning emotions or drunkenness as Bruce Wayne or maintaining brutal stoicism as Batman--helped him not to react to the ultimate vision female beauty and sensuality before him. He stared her down silently, blank as ever.

Well, perhaps penultimate, his traitorous heart whispered.

Hermes had finally roused himself to stand on the ground, taking position at Bruce’s right. 

“Aphrodite, this traveler is under my protection,” he warned, unusually serious.

“Yes!” Artemis barked, approaching the other goddess with obvious aggression and disdain. “You are in my domain, sister.” She spat the title.

Aphrodite stopped her approach and crossed her arms, pouting at her half-siblings. “What kind of welcome is this? And honestly, what threat could I possibly pose against you, Huntress, or you, Messenger?” 

Bruce was put in mind, suddenly, of Poison Ivy. He remained alert. 

Artemis huffed. “None, surely, though perhaps you wish it otherwise.” She moved in a blur, suddenly stood in firing stance, divine arrow nocked and aimed at Aphrodite’s heart. “Do not move, Sister, unless you plan to withdraw. I protect Diana, Menalippe the Amazon, and this mortal. And I do not suffer trespassers.”

The sensual pout suddenly hardened, and rage twisted Aphrodite’s beautiful face.

“You will regret this insult,” she snarled. “Just as your pet demigoddess Diana of Themyscira”-- she drew out Diana’s name with hatred-- “will regret sending my beloved Ares to Tartarus!”

Bruce’s mind spun, cataloguing this threat against Diana against the vague memory of the Pantheon’s complex web of intercourse and twisted family tree. Aphrodite had at times been lover to Ares--all’s fair in love and war, Bruce thought-- but not married to him.

“Does Hephaestus know you are here?” Hermes demanded. “Does he know you still mourn the brother who tortured and betrayed him? He will not stand for this disgrace. The Smith crafted Diana’s armor and weapons and you are one of her patrons! Neither he nor Artemis nor I, nor the Great Father himself will suffer you to harm Diana.”

Aphrodite smiled that cat smile. “Harm her? No indeed. She suffered equal punishment the moment she watched that human Steve Trevor explode. No, I intend to have my test, just as each of her patrons is due.” She turned her gaze towards Bruce, licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. “And I won’t harm a hair on her head.” She leaned in close enough to breath in through her nose next to Batman’s ear, even as Artemis stretched her bow in threat.

Bruce had palmed a batarang and knockout gas, unsure as yet what he’d be able to do to the goddess should she continue her threats. He heard hounds barking and the patter of their feet. He remained perfectly still, waiting.

“Here she comes,” Aphrodite whispered. Then she vanished.

Diana zoomed in, flying alongside the Silver Stag with the hounds barking at their heels. She slowed, smoothly touching down to jog to a stop, surveying the four companions she’d left behind. Her aunt Menalippe, fingers flexing around her spear, appeared confused. Hermes looked alarmed, and Artemis, angry. Bruce, though his face was unreadable as ever behind the cowl, stood ramrod straight, weapons in both hands.

Diana looked around, feeling the tension in the air. She turned a slow circle, and seeing no one else, ventured, “I have returned the Stag as you requested, Lady Artemis. But I have brought him alive because such a creature of yours should be honored.”

Artemis appeared to jerk out of her pose of frozen anger, and relaxed the bow, lowering her aim. Still, she kept the arrow nocked. “You have passed my test, Diana, in respecting my creature.” She approached, let the Stag rub his flank against her side. She almost smiled.

Hermes snorted. “It’s a bit anticlimactic now, isn’t it?” 

Artemis shrugged, then clucked her tongue and the stag bounded off in one direction, and her hounds, in the other direction. “It is done.”

Diana glanced at Bruce, then Menalippe, questions in her eyes. “What has happened? Has the Queen Mother been here too?”

Hermes straightened, floating up in the sky for a moment in his anxiety. “You saw Hera?”

But Diana could not answer. She froze, the color falling from her face; her eyes focused on a spot behind Bruce. 

“Steve?” she whispered.


	6. Love and War

“Steve?” Diana whispered, and Bruce’s heart plummeted to his toes at the confused hope and heartbreak wrapped up in that single syllable. She looked younger, suddenly, as the century of loneliness and war faded away. 

“He is not real, Diana!” Menalippe snapped, bending her knees and whipping the spear into a fighting stance. “He’s dead. You know he’s dead.” Diana flinched each time at the word dead.

“Trespasser!” Artemis howled in fury, aiming her bow and whirling, searching out the threat. 

Bruce managed to tear his gaze from Diana’s stricken face to look over his shoulder. He took in the sight of the man from Diana’s photo with dread. Everything was the same, the fur lining on his coat, the one section of his bangs that could not be tamed, the striking blue eyes, and his earnest expression. 

Anger at Aphrodite fell away, overtaken by hopeless jealousy.

“It’s a trick, Diana,” he said, gut churching as he took her tear-filled eyes. “Aphrodite was here; she is testing you. It’s just an illusion.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” came a whisper in her ear. Diana barely glanced to her side, she was so arrested by the sight of Steve Trevor walking towards her. “It doesn’t have to be an illusion. I am the goddess of love, Diana. This is within my power to grant you.”

“Diana!” Steve said, jogging past Bruce, a glaring Menalippe, and the other two deities who were whispering fiercely to one another. He stopped just short of her, hand outstretched by not touching her. “Diana, it’s me.” 

He reached out to touch her her right arm, the right side of her face. And Bruce watched, hands fisted and jaw locked, as Aphrodite leaned in close, caressed Diana’s left arm, the left side of her face, a mirror image of Steve’s movements. 

“You can have him again, Diana,” he heard Aphrodite whisper. And both Aphrodite and Steve leaned in, to kiss each side of her forehead. 

Diana shuddered. Bruce jerked, batarang in hand ready to fly... and then found he couldn’t move. Beside him, in the corner of his eye he could see Menalippe, Artemis, and Hermes were frozen too. The two deities were struggling a bit more, but he and Menalippe were totally frozen. 

“You can have Steve Trevor,” the goddess said. “If you give me Bruce Wayne.”

Diana froze. 

“Diana,” Steve implored, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb. “We could have more time.”

Aphrodite mirrored Steve’s movements, but Diana finally flinched away from the goddess. “Steve,” she whispered, backing away. The confusion and grief in the man’s face was as real as what twisted in Bruce’s stomach and stuck in his throat as he watched.

“You can’t be here,” he heard Diana say, almost angrily. “It is impossible. You died, one hundred years ago. You died to save thousands of lives, Steve.”

Bruce, though still frozen from the neck down, felt hope bubble up in him. Her rational mind was clinging to reality.

“Diana, listen,” Steve implored, gesturing earnestly and leaning forward. “I am here. I can stay. We can live in this world together-- we can do what people do with no wars to fight, remember? We can have breakfast. Read the newspaper, go to work, grow old together. Don’t you want that?”

Diana jerked away from Aphrodite, stepped away from Steve’s outstretched hand. The stricken look of hurt on the other man’s face was vivid enough to touch even Bruce’s heart, triggering empathy Bruce didn’t know he had for the dead man. 

Diana, though, snapped the lasso of truth from her hip, draped it around her neck, then fell to her knees with a wordless howl of grief. Bruce knew he’d remember the sound for as long as he lived.

The lasso glowed.

“It is not real, Diana! I’ll prove it!” Artemis cried, breaking the magic that held her still. The goddess of the moon stretched her bow, fired her arrow at Steve Trevor’s heart. 

But Diana heard the twang and quick as a blink, snatched the arrow out of the air. “Would you have me watch this a second time?” she cried, dropping by her legs, where she knelt. She gripped the lasso with both hands. It glowed brighter then flashed, blinding them all. 

When the light faded, Diana stood.

“Steve,” she said. He’d been watching her with concern, leaning over and reaching out but not touching her. His entire face brightened when Diana said his name. 

“Diana, wait,” Hermes warned, stepping forward. 

“Mercy, please!” Diana cried, but it was an order, not a plea. “I will have this one chance.”

“Yes,” Aphrodite purred to Diana. To her siblings, both able to move now, Aphrodite snapped, “Do not interfere.”

Bruce hated her.

“Mortal!” Menalippe hissed. Bruce couldn’t move his body, but he could see her on his left. “This is not the time for your moody silence, Bruce Wayne!” Urgency filled her whispered words. “Your life hangs in the balance!”

“Does it?” Bruce wondered aloud, his attention on Diana. 

“Steve,” Diana said again, free of interruptions this time. She reached for his hand, seemed to flinch when she felt it, warm and solid in her own. “I never got to tell you I loved you. I never got to say goodbye.”

Steve opened his mouth, said, “Diana, you don’t--” but she gently pressed her finger to his lips. 

“And I never will,” she continued, softer now. “Because you are not here. I know the truth. I feel it in my bones. You are not here but in the fields of Elysian with the heroes where you belong. And there, you deserve to rest.”

Still gripping Steve’s hand, Diana turned her gaze on Aphrodite, who seemed of all things, to be crying. 

“My lady,” Diana said. “Thank you for this chance. Even if it isn’t real.”

And thought it stung Bruce to watch, Diana leaned forward and kissed Steve’s lips. It was a quick kiss, nearly chaste, over in a blink. Then, the Princess of the Amazons stepped backwards, and then, turned her back on the image of her first love. 

“Steve is dead,” she said, loud enough for them all to hear. “But Bruce is alive. I loved Steve once, long ago. But I love Bruce today. Release him.”

Aphrodite sniffed, delicately catching a tear on her fingertip. Then she snapped the fingers, and Bruce and Menalippe could move again. And behind Diana’s back, the image of Steve Trevor closed his eyes, smiled, and then slowly faded away into nothing. 

No one moved. Bruce barely breathed.

Finally, Diana knelt before Aphrodite. “Forgive me, my lady. I know the pain you suffered when I struck Ares. I regret his fate, just as I regret the suffering you endured. You have carried such pain,” Diana whispered, touching the goddesses feet. “Forgive me.”

The Goddess of Love scrubbed more tears away, less gracefully this time. She pulled Diana to her feet, cupping her palms around Diana’s face.

“You truly are blessed with love and beauty, Diana, Princess of Themyscira,” she marveled. She dropped her hands, stepped back to put space between them. Diana saluted. 

“You have passed my challenge,” Aphrodite declared. “But,” she said, her gaze cutting in to Bruce, “greater challenges lie ahead.”

Diana dropped her salute, letting her fist open and her arm fall to her side. “They always do,” she said. 

Aphrodite smiled. She sent Artemis a finat petulant scowl, Hermes one last wink. Then she turned and walked away, fading into mist.

When the silence settled over them all like heavy wool, Bruce blurted, “You knew. You knew, Diana, even before you touched the lasso. How?”

Diana, looking exhausted and sad, stepped forward and took her aunt’s hand. “He said... he said we could grow old together.” Diana kissed Menalippe’s fingers. “But I will not grow old at all. I will die in battle, like Antiope before me.”

Menalippe swallowed, face pale. “Diana, I--”

“A meal!” Hermes cried suddenly. “We must have rest and a meal. Come, travelers, we go to Hestia, goddess of hearth and home. Artemis, will you journey with us?” 

The Lady of the Hunt shook her head, shouldering her bow once more. “No, brother. My place is here.” She nodded to each of them, one by one. “Bruce Wayne. Menalippe. Diana. Go with my blessing. Especially you, my sister. Cool winds and a swift hunt. Farewell.”

Artemis put her fingers to her mouth and whistled sharply. A silver chariot, pulled by the Silver Stag and his mate, burst from the wall of trees behind her. Artemis leapt into the chariot with a wild cry, then rode away into the wood. 

XXX

As they walked behind Hermes, the weight of Diana’s confession weighed on Bruce like the albatross around his neck. He walked, even more silent than normal, desperately trying to wrest some control over his spinning brain and blooming heart. 

Menalippe spared him from having to talk or face Diana right away because the Amazon placed herself determinedly between Diana and Bruce in the single file line through the trees and up the path. Then, too loudly, she asked, “Diana, did you really see the Queen of Heaven?” 

Diana didn’t seem troubled, though perhaps some residual sadness clung to her eyes. Yet, Bruce was acutely aware of how she’d not met his eyes once since she’d said she’d never grow old, but die in battle. “Yes, I saw Hera in the woods when I was hunting the Stag. She is... not pleased.” The hurt in those words made Bruce flex his fingers. 

“What?! How could she not be?” Menalippe demanded angrily. “You have served her honorably all your life.” She used her spear to hold a branch out of Diana’s way, but let it fall into Bruce’s path. As he walked, Bruce ducked under it with a roll of his eyes. 

“Only my mother will truly be able to answer that question,” Diana said. “Or perhaps the Great Father himself. He gave me life; Hera is displeased because I embody Zeus’s betrayal.”

Menalippe said nothing. Hermes said nothing. Bruce’s eyebrows shot up behind the cowl. 

“Hera says she intends to kill me,” Diana said, as blank ans casually as she might comment on the weather. It sent chills crawling up Bruce’s spine. He watched as Diana gripped the field dressing on her wound, just for a moment, before letting her hand fall away again. 

“Hera will come around,” Hermes declared with characteristic cheer, perhaps too quickly. He led them to a cottage, built into the side of the mountain, surrounded by a sea of colorful wildflowers, smoke wafting from the chimney. 

“Here we are,” Hermes said grandly. “Welcome home.”

He lifted his hand to knock on the door, but it swept open. A rosy-cheeked pump woman stepped outside, dressed in a long and flowing pink tunic with a white apron tied around her waist. A delighted smile brightened her face and making her soft brown eyes sparkle. Light brown hair was held back by a gold scarf tied like a headband, leaving two tails trailing down her back.

“Finally,” she cried. “I am Hestia. You are all most welcome! Come in, please, be comfortable. The meal is nearly prepared.” She kissed each of them on both cheeks as they passed her own the threshold. She even tugged Bruce’s cowl down from his face to do it. He was so flummoxed that he let her.

Diana laughed.

He decided it was okay then. The cowl could hang; Diana and Menalippe knew his identity, and he’d not managed to hide it from the Greek deities anyway. He confirmed it was okay when Diana took in the sight of his face-- messy and matted hair, cowl marks, and all--with a soft smile. 

Strangely--though Hestia bustled around, ordering Menalippe to “put town the spear and relax, child” and Hermes to “go into the kitchen and make yourself useful, that’s a dear”-- it all seemed to fade away into quiet as Bruce and Diana’s eyes met, and Hestia led the other two away, deeper into the house. 

Bruce mouth opened against his will, and with no idea what he planned on saying, he took a step closer to her, into her space. “Princess--” he began, but still smiling, Diana pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him. Bruce felt that simple touch send warmth all the way to his toes. 

“Please,” she said. “Let me go first.”

She dropped her finger. Ridiculously. he missed it, missed how carelessly she used to touch him. Was it only hours ago that they’d walked behind Menalippe and Hermes holding hands? Now, her hands stayed at her side.

“I have... discomfited you, Bruce, with my words to Aphrodite. Do not deny it!” she chided, when he opened his mouth to lie, “I see it in your eyes, and I hear it in everything you do not say.”

His mouth quirked in humor at that phrase. She continued relentlessly.

“I do love you, Bruce Wayne.”

His smile fell away; was his jaw really hanging open? Decorum, Wayne, decorum. Diana’s smile grew, amused by him, but her eyes were serious.

“We are an affectionate people, the Amazons. So... I would like to offer this to you. You may hear my words, my love, in a way that suits you. Perhaps you hear that I love you as a teammate, as a fellow warrior loves the one who fights beside her. Perhaps you care to hear that I love you as a one friend loves another, through good times and through hard times.”

“Are you offering me an out, Diana?” Bruce asked, blunt

“Yes. If you like.” She paused for a moment; he watched her swallow, look to the heavens. It was the only sign of her nervousness. She returned her gaze to his, never one to cower.

“But...if you like, you may hear me saying that I am attracted to you, that the connection between us, between our bodies and our souls, has not escaped my notice. You may hear me saying that everything I know about you and everything I don’t know about you fascinates me, and that I would need very little encouragement to fall in love with you since, when I am with you, I feel like my true and alive self.”

She could not dissemble--she was Truth herself. The terror warred with glee in Bruce’s chest, pounding against his ribs. He wished for his cowl, foolishly considered pulling it back over his eyes. His eyes!! Were they betraying him even now? Did all the hope and horror he felt pour of them? He could hardly guess what expression his features made when he felt so much. His hands twitched, wanting to hold something (her), wanting to break something (not her, wanting to grab anything that would anchor him to the world while his thoughts stormed.

But he’d been silent too long. A wry expression pulled at Diana’s lips and eyebrows, tilted her head to the side. No, no, no, he thought, but he could not speak. He could do anything but speak. 

“As I said, Bruce... you may hear what you wish. Just friends, just comrades.” She could look at him no longer; he watched her search for anything to focus on, watched her give up and decide to turn away, as if to follow the others down the hall. He hated the word just, and his mouth decided to speak before he did.

“But which is true?” he asked.

Diana turned back to face him, lifted her eyes to his. The sadness there hurt him, weighed him down. She curled her fingers around her lasso, and it glowed briefly, casting the golden light on her face. She wa tired, he saw suddenly, ashamed he’d missed it before this moment. Not tired from their climb or from her hunt, but soul-tired. The burden of her years did not show in her face, her skin, anywhere on her except in the depths of her endless eyes. 

“I am true,” she said. And forcing a small smile, Diana let go of the lasso, let the light fade, and then walked away.

Bruce stared after, his mind caught in chaos. Why had he frozen? What did he want her to mean, if all of it was true? She was beyond him; he could not treat her like he’d treated Selina or Talia, and he certainly couldn’t treat her like the endless parades of clueless women who took their turn on Bruce Wayne’s arm. How could it work at all? She is immortal, nearly invulnerable-- he is mortal, and, though she’d done the confessing, he’d never felt more vulnerable in his adult life. And considering how batshit (hah) insane his adult life has been, that is saying something.

He could have stood there much longer, spiraling, but only seconds had passed when Hermes stomped in. 

“Are you going to blow it, mortal?” he seethed. “Come. Hestia waits.” And the messenger god stomped back down the hall, obviously expecting Bruce to follow. This time, he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come on Bruce.... Alfred will be so disappointed.... 
> 
> Only Hestia, Demeter, and Athena's challenges remain, along with the unofficial patrons, Hera and Zeus... Some of these challenges promise to be more physical, so ride with me through the Land of Feelings, and we'll get to a bit more action.


	7. Hearth and Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a week?! WATCH ME GO!!! Let us return, my friends, to the LAND OF FEELINGS!!!!

Diana wrestled her disappointment to the backburner of her mind, shoved it into the box with the vulnerable part of her that was still reeling from Aphrodite’s traumatic challenge. She knew some of Bruce’s story, after all; the shooting that killed his parents, the death of Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon’s injury... it didn’t take a huge leap of logic to assume that Bruce, as silent and stony as he was, still feared those near him getting hurt. His solution was simple and ruthless: he prevented people from breaking through the barriers around his heart. She knew this, yet she’d put him on the spot, put her heart in his hands. Now he could decide what to do, and all these feelings could _stay in the box._

Diana breathed in and out a few times, slow and deliberate, remembering Antiope’s training. Then she stepped out of the hallway into the dining room. And even Diana, exhausted and sad as she was, couldn’t help the smile.

In the charming dining room, a table draped in white and covered with dishes and sparkling crystal dishes stood in the center. Behind it, a brick fireplace housed a blazing fire, which offered a dancing glow on the walls and somehow, didn’t overheat the room. Hestia was fussing over baffled Menalippe while Hermes took in the sight of the Mediterranean feast with glee. He looked up, saw Diana, and his smile went flat. Perhaps her face gave more away than she’d intended. She remembered how it was all going into the box and offered Hermes a smile as she hovered by the table. His frown deepened.

“Have a seat, sister!” he urged. “Here, to the right of Hestia. I’ll go get our flying rodent.” And he strode purposely back down the hall.

Hestia straightened, satisfied that Menalippe was comfortable. Her smile was infectious, and Diana couldn’t help but return it, feeling the joy of the expression this time. “My lady Hestia, you honor us with your kindness.”

Hestia waved that away with a dismissive sound. “It’s my joy, Diana, my joy to have you in my home. Please, sit next to me, the place of honor! Here, right across from your aunt, dear. Hermes will be next to her, and Bruce Wayne will be there, next to you. A lovely party we make, yes?”

Diana’s smile turned wry as she settled into her chair. “Yes, my lady. Thank you for your hospitality.”

 “Tut,” Hestia said, studying Diana, then Menalippe in turn. She frowned at their armor, then waved her hand. A flash of light and Menalippe wore a reddish-brown Grecian gown, her hair tumbling down over her shoulders. Diana blinked, glanced down. She found herself dressed in the white and gold ceremonial gown she wore to religious festivals and other formal occasions on Themyscira. The Lasso of Hestia featured as an elaborate sash at her waist. She could feel the weight of a golden crown of laurels resting on her head, her reward for winning the tournament of champions long ago. She reached across the table to Menalippe, holding her hand, feeling nostalgic.

Menalippe squeezed her fingers. “Your mother would be so proud, Diana. You look magnificent.”

 Diana smirked, settling into her chair. She hadn’t eaten a meal, sat a table set quite like this since she left Themyscira. “So sentimental, my dear aunt. You and I both know, I look the same as ever.” She spread the cloth napkin over her lap, hoping to protect the gown before returning it to Hestia.

 Her aunt studied her across the table, series as ever. Diana felt small and vulnerable under those eyes. “No, my child,” Menalippe said quietly. “You are changed. You look like your mother now-- your features are the same, but your eyes, the way you carry yourself. You remind me of her.” Menalippe pressed her lips together. “And Antiope, your teacher. She would be so proud, Diana.”

 Diana swallowed, working at the lump in her throat. “I miss them both. Seeing you, Menalippe, reminds me of home.”

 “Home!” Hestia cried. “Just what we want to talk about. Come, boys, sit, sit sit.” She gestured, and Diana turned over her shoulder to watch Bruce and Hermes come on. Hermes floated over the table to settle in the chair next to Menalippe. Hestia tutted at Bruce, waved a hand, and when the lighted faded, Diana took in the sight of Bruce clothed in a sharp black and grey tuxedo; the jacket’s cut was modern, two bold red stripes on the lapel. As out of sorts as she felt about Bruce, Diana could not help appreciating the cut of the suit, could not help offering him a smile and a welcoming gesture to the chair next to her.

 Bruce Wayne might be very comfortable at dinner parties, but that was a field he knew; Olympus, Diana suspected, had kept Bruce on edge simply for it's unfamiliarity and unpredictability. After all, he hated magic. She touched his shoulder, very briefly, and said, “Relax, Bruce. I will keep you safe.”

 “That’s my job,” Hermes retorted. “But yes, relax. She won’t let us get to the food until you do.”

 “Quiet, nephew!” Hestia chided, a warm smile belying her words. “Welcome, Bruce Wayne, to Olympus. Welcome, General Menalippe. Welcome, Diana, Princess of Themyscira, champion of the Amazons. My nephew Hermes and I are glad to welcome you here. We offer you food and a safe place to rest before you begin the final challenges. And I, too, have a test for you as well, my niece. But first! Let us eat and be merry! But not merry enough to catch my nephew Dionysus’s attention.” Her eyes twinkled, as a mischievous aunt’s eyes would. “Just enough for this place to feel like home once more.”

 “Enough, honored aunt!” Hermes cried. “Let us eat, I beg you!”

 Hestia laughed, a warm and rolling sound. “Be at ease and eat, my children.”

 And, as if she was gathered around the long table in the palace with all her sisters on a high feast day, Diana felt truly relaxed, truly comfortable in her skin, home. She closed her eyes for a moment to relish the sensation of her homesickness, her confusion about Bruce, her sadness about Steve, to melt off her shoulders into the peace of home.

 “What is this magic?” Bruce breathed next to her, looking stunned. “I feel like I have never felt in my life.” He met her eyes, and she felt no compunction about grabbing his hand, squeezing it. He didn’t pull away, closed his eyes in stunned relief.

 “You have felt this before, Bruce,” Diana said softly, compassion for him welling up in her and spreading to her fingers. She touched his face with her free hand. “But it has been so long, I know, so long since you truly felt at home. I know because for me, it has been so much longer.”

 She leaned in close, closed her other hand around his so that she gripped his hand with both of hers, like a prayer. “I watched my aunt die, so she could save me. Bruce, I know. I know it is not the same as what you suffered. I was already centuries old then, and my people are a race of warriors, not raised to fear to death. You were a child. I know I cannot truly know the pain you suffered; I know, as you do, that this magic is not the same as having your parents back. I know your mission is to fight so that no more children in Gotham will ever know that pain. But know, Bruce, that you are not alone. I have felt the weight of wars on my shoulders; I have watched those precious to me die, as you have.”

Diana gestured to the table, to Hestia, Menalippe, and Hermes, who were talking and laughing, eating and drinking, as they had no cares or burdens in the world. “This magic, the blessing of Hestia, will fade soon. You will remember the weight of your mission, the pain of your ever-present grief and how this magic is not as good as having your parents live. I will remember again how truly and terribly alone I feel in Man’s world, how much my heart still stings from Aphrodite’s challenge, how much I miss my mother. And you! You will even remember your apprehension about the feelings I shared with you.”

 Here, Diana grinned, a innocent and wide smile that crinkled the delicate skin at the corner of her eyes. Bruce felt his breath literally escape him, pass through his parted lip in a slow exhale. She laughed, embracing the magic giving her such joy.

 “And I will remember that I-- though they say I am Themyscira’s greatest warrior and I may even have to replace Superman as Earth’s champion!!-- I will remember again that I am feeling very vulnerable next to you, very on edge as I wait for you to decide what to do with the heart I placed in your hands. It will be very awkward, I’m sure.” She laughed again, and the sound seemed to be a cool balm on Bruce’s heart. Her hands squeezed his own once more. “But until then, let us simply be. Yes?”

 Bruce couldn’t help it. He grinned, squeezed her hand back. Even leaned down to kiss her knuckles, delighting her. “Princess,” he said, bowing over her hands. “Your wish is my command. Now pass the potatoes.”

 Rolling her eyes and laughing, she did.

 

XXX

 

The dinner proceeded with all the noise, comfort, laughter, and veiled chaos of home. Bruce teased Menalippe for setting her spear by her chair, Hermes ribbed Bruce for the weapons he’d no doubt found a way to conceal in the suit he’d magically been clothed in, and Diana laughed at them all. She leaned into Hestia, letting her head rest on the goddesses shoulder, not caring that it tipped the golden crown of laurels on her head off-center. She watched as the dishes from dessert cleared away by magic, feeling a contentment she hadn’t felt in far too long.

 “My lady Hestia,” she said, eyes closed. “I thank you. It has been an age since I felt like I was at home.”

 Hestia sighed , a content yet sad sound.

 “I know, child. I hope you will continue to call upon me to bless every new place you call home. I will do what little I can from my place behind the veil.”

 “Thank you,” Diana breathed, already imagining the shine she would make in her Paris apartment.

 Hestia shifted in her chair, prompting Diana to sit up straight. Ever a princess, she straightened her crown and smoothed her hair without realizing she was doing it, and she took in the scene with pleasure. Bruce and Menalippe had teamed up and were debating Hermes on some topic....something about Diana’s speed and the blessing of Artemis? Diana chuckled to herself, rolling her eyes like an older sister at misbehaving siblings, enjoying Hermes’s dramatic outrage as he debated back.

 “Come, children!” Hestia said, standing. The pink silk of her gown tumbled down to the floor. “Let us visit the garden before the sun sets.”

 Everyone stood without thinking much of it, continuing their debate as they followed Hestia out of the back door and into a backyard bursting with flowers, sparkling fireflies, and a shaded picnic table with blooming ivy dangling from the roof covering it.

 “Have a seat, everyone! Diana,” Hestia said, quietly now. “Will you walk with me?”

 Diana agreed, following hestia to the back of the small yard where two large trees--chaste trees!-- grew high and arced toward one another, their higher branches entwining and creating an archway.

 “Menalippe brought me a bouquet of these blooms,” Diana said, touching one, “to help prove she was who she appeared to be. Was that really only yesterday? I have never seen these trees grow elsewhere, nowhere outside of Themyscira.”

 Hestia said, “That’s because they don’t.”

 Diana blinked. Hestia reached for her hand and together, they watched as the archway formed by the two trees filled with white light and then, the light clarified into an image Diana recognized immediately-- the training grounds of the Amazons, in a flat place between Themyscira’s peaks. Diana felt her knees tremble as she recognized her mother among them, walking through the sparring women with Phillipus at her side.

 “Can it be?” Diana breathed.

 “I have only enough power for one person to pass through and in one direction, Diana. I am Hestia; this is a way home.”

 Diana’s hand trembled as she reached for the light in the doorway, then rested her hand on one of the trees instead, leaning on it for balance. Her mother looked the same, yet, even more solemn than she had.

 “You must have great faith in me, my lady Hestia. I hope I may deserve it.” And in a strained voice, gripping the tree, she cried, “Menalippe!”

 In seconds, Menalippe appeared on her right, spear at the ready. Diana sensed rather than saw Bruce coalesce silently at her left, just behind her.

 Menalippe gasped, dropping her spear.

 “Themyscira,” Bruce whispered.

 “For one hundred years, I searched.” Diana’s voice shook like her hands did, like she was struggling to carry a heavy weight. “I sailed. I flew. I swam and nearly drowned. And I always failed. Now, a way lies home. But not for me.” Diana turned to Menalippe and grabbed her hands, hard enough to make the older Amazon wince. Her eyes shone. “For you, Menalippe.”

 “No!” Menalippe cried, struggling to free her hands and failing. “No, Princess, I beg you. I cannot return, not without you.”

 Diana smiled through the tears. “There is magic for only one person, in only one direction, dear aunt. People have not believed in the old gods in too long, Menalippe.”

 The older woman let out a frustrated cry, again trying to free her hands from Diana’s grip, failing once more. “No!” she snarled it this time, shifting tactics. “No, I won’t do it!”

 “This is your test?” Bruce demanded of Hestia, the haunted look in Diana’s eyes sparking his anger. He did not bother to hide his outrage for he was not a pious man. 

 Hestia nodded, her expression grieved. “It must be done. Home is more than a place.”

 Diana’s sadness turned fierce in her eyes at Menalippe’s angry refusal. “Would you not go if I ordered you, General?” she challenged, shaking her aunt’s arms once, still gripping her hands.

 “I would!” cried Menalippe, desperately now. “Of course I would, so please, do not order me from your side! In you, I see Antiope. She lives in you, in your expressions, your love, your ferocity, and the world is bearable for me once more. Please, Your Highness, I beg you!”

 Diana held fast, her face pinching as she fought her tears back. Her mouth went flat. “And would you have me watch you die, Menalippe?!” she demanded. “Like I watched Antiope die? Would you have me watch you slowly meet your death knowing that this time, I could have stopped it?!”

 Silence descended on the garden.

 “You figured it out,” Menalippe said, stunned. She stopped her struggles.

 “Of course she did,” Bruce returned gently, feeling how his place with Menalippe had reversed. “Of course she did. Wisdom of Athena.”

 Diana, still gripping her aunt’s hands, knelt before her. Menalippe visibly flinched at this reversal, trying to pull Diana back to her feed. Again, she failed.

 “Menalippe,” Diana said. “My dear aunt. You have faced something no Amazon ever faced--not even I.” Her smile was wistful, and Bruce’s chest ached. “You have faced the relentless approach of death in all the months you have searched for me, seeing your body age in a way none of us ever has. I am proud of you. You bravery inspires me. No one could have known that our island was the source, not even I. I am not an Amazon quite like the rest of you,” Diana said, remembering how hurt she’d been when her mother had said it, not knowing what it meant.

 She attempted to smile at herself as the old pain flared. “I didn’t know. I would have sent a warning, somehow. Now you can, Menalippe. You warn our sisters of this consequence of leaving the island; you can protect my mother while I cannot. This is your mission. You have served me well, my dear aunt, for so long. Will you stop now?”

 Diana lost a rare battle, this one to her tears. One fell from her chin, onto her aunt’s hands where she gripped them and kissed them. “Please, Menalippe. If you will not do this for yourself, please; do it for me.”

 Menalippe, having failed to move Diana three times, fell to her knees in front of her niece. “Would you not have me with you?” she whispered, vulnerable.

 Diana finally released Menalippe’s hands so she could pull her aunt into a hug, right there where they knelt. Menalippe trembled in her arms. “Of course, I yearn for you to be with me as much as I yearn to return home with you.” The lasso glowed from where it wrapped around Diana’s waist with the force of this truth.

 She pulled back, holding Menalippe by the shoulders.  “But this is the test, and my mission is not complete; Bruce, he says something bigger is coming. Only you can make it back to my mother to warn her to be on her guard. I cannot; Patriarch’s World is vulnerable without Kal-El. I must remain. It is my mission.” She kissed her aunt on the cheek. “Menalippe, I could not save Antiope; let me save you.”

 Menalippe, one of the fiercest warriors among all the Amazons, leaned forward, rested her forehead on her Princess’s shoulder, and wept.

 Diana held her, and after a moment, whispered, “Antiope lives on in the fields of Elysian, just as she lives on in me. And not just me; you can find her back on the island, you know. See?”

 Menalippe lifted her head, looked toward the glowing archway, and found herself gazing at a close up of Queen Hippolyta’s face. The Queen had styled her hair in the same way Antiope often had, and her face, fierce and flushed with exertion, had jumped from her mount to join in the training. The fierce smile she gave Phillipus as she dodged the other woman’s attack was Antiope’s smile.

 Menalippe breathed the Queen’s name.

 Diana stood, helped Menalippe to her feet. “Are you ready, General? She needs you. I need you.”

 Menalippe sucked in a deep breath through her nose, grabbed her spear, and straightened. She glanced back at Hestia. “My armor, please, my lady?”

 Hestia produced the armor from thin air. “Keep the gown, Amazon, as a gift from me,” Hestia implored. “And Menalippe: tell the Amazons that I live, that the old gods survived. With the force of their belief, one day, this way home will be open again.”

 Menalippe squared her shoulders, finally, accepting her missions. “Yes, my lady Hestia. I will do as you say.”

 She turned to Hermes, who, serious for once, offered her a return salute.

 “You will keep them safe, my Lord?”

 He nodded solemnly. “Or be forsworn. My solemn vow.”

 Menalippe shifted her gaze to Bruce. Bruce tried not to wither in the face of all the warnings and threats the Amazon was sending with her eyes. When Diana coughed, Menalippe relaxed her glare, sighing. She shook her head, finally giving Bruce a true smile and offering her hand to shake his. He did so, returning the tight squeeze; they grinned at each other.

 “You’re not half bad, Bruce Wayne,” she said, “for a man.”

 “May I be worthy of such praise,” he said dryly, relishing Diana’s laugh. “Be well, Menalippe. It was an honor.”

 “Gods protect you, Bruce Wayne,” she said.

 “And you,” he replied.

 And then, Menalippe turned to Diana. She opened her arms, and Diana walked into her embrace, the only child of Themyscira once more.

 “Be strong, sun and stars,” Menalippe whispered, as she knew Hippolyta would if she could. “Until we meet again.”

 Diana hugged her aunt hard, kissed her cheek, and, slowly now, let go.

 “My love goes with you, Menalippe. Share it with my mother; tell her I miss her.” Diana steadied herself, straightening and offering Menalippe a final salute. “This is not goodbye,” Diana ordered. “Now, go.”

 Menalippe smiled, “Yes, Princess.” And with a deep breath, Menalippe faced the doorway to Themyscira and stepped through. A bright flash of blinded them all, and then, when the light faded, the two trees were simply trees.

 The sun set on Olympus as Bruce gently took Diana’s hand in his.


	8. In Our Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana reels after sending Menalippe home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated M for mature.

 

Bruce couldn’t sleep.

This wasn’t especially unusual--his body was used to a violent nocturnal lifestyle with random sleep cycles erratically crammed in between catching criminals, staggering into board meetings, and gloating his way through a charity function until he could sneak out. And two nights in a row--one in Paris and then tonight, on Mount Olympus-- he has done precious little battling and it felt weird. Had he even had two nights in a row recently where he didn’t patrol? He couldn’t think of the last time. Even when the signal didn’t light, he patrolled.

Now Bruce found himself in a private room in the goddess Hestia’s home--which, he’d noted with annoyance, was impossibly larger on the inside than its quaint cottage exterior suggested. And he hated magic.

“You look like you’re sucking a lemon, man.” Dick Grayson smirked at him through his tablet screen, arms crossed. Bruce saw that Dick was in the Cave, swore he could hear Alfred chuckling from somewhere. At least in the magical home of a goddess in the mystical realm of the Greek Pantheon he could somehow still transmit a secure video feed. Why and how was that possible? Why was there a WiFi network in some mirror dimension on a magical mountain, and why was it called, “Home Sweet Home?” These were the questions.

Bruce stared back at Nightwing. Dick snorted, pulled his mask down, and said, “I’m just saying, I’ve seen pictures of this Princess--”

“What pictures?!” Bruce demanded. He had no pictures of her, he realized, and it bothered him, which of course, bothered him more.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Please. Like you’re the only one who can do a background check, old man? Please. Besides, I didn’t have to, you already did one on her.”

“Stop hacking into my shit,” Bruce said, feeling proud.

“And,” his son continued as if Bruce hadn’t spoken, “Alfred talks about Her Highness as if she is the Holy Virgin Mother come to save us all.”

There was a dignified and distinctly British sound in the background.

“Okay, Mary is probably not the most accurate metaphor,” Dick mused, “considering what Alfred has in mind.”

“Master Dick!” scolded Alfred’s voice, truly scandalized and, Bruce thought, possibly legitimately offended on Diana’s behalf.

“Not like that!” Dick cried frantically. “I mean, not you, I meant but for Bruce, you know?” he stammered, floundering. “I mean... anyway, what I’m saying is, maybe you could relax a little and enjoy yourself. Like a vacation. Oracle and I got this covered.” Dick glanced off screen, looking chastened, and when the camera moved, Bruce admired the disappointed stare Alfred was leveling at his son at this moment, feeling some sympathy for the young man.

“Okay, hang on a sec, Alfred would like a word. We’re good here, though, so stop obsessing. Later!”

A moment later, Alfred’s placid face appeared, taking in far more than Bruce wanted anyone to see. He could never hide anything from his surrogate father and accomplice.

“Good to see you in one piece, sir,” he said, and barely a trace of his chastisement of Dick remained in his cultured voice. Bruce, a martial arts master and literal genius, could have sagged in relief.

“I can see,” Alfred continued, “that your trip to Greece hasn’t been shall we say, relaxing.”

Bruce searched for innuendo in the butler’s tone, and found none. (Thank God.) He studied the tiny square on his screen where his own face, minus the cowl, stared back. He found his reflection uninteresting and unchanged, as ever, to his own eyes. Hadn’t that gray over his ears been there for years?

“I’m fine, as you can see,” he told Alfred. “This is the Princess’s mission, and I am nearly irrelevant.”

Before Alfred started to shake his head, Bruce knew it to be a lie, even as his heart believed it. Yet, even if he could not conceive of Diana having any need of him, he had no intention of leaving, not yet. Not with Dick and Barbara practically bored since he’d trained them so well. Not with Zeus and Hera (who had stated her intention to kill Diana) along with Demeter and Athena still waiting. Not with the dullness in Diana’s eyes as she’d stared at the chase trees when the light faded. She’d gripped his hand so hard it still ached; he’d not made a sound.

“I’m sure you’d have already left if you presence wasn’t needed, sir. If you can call us, surely you can leave.”

He could leave, Bruce knew; Hermes had reminded him of it when Bruce had needed some target upon which to unleash his considerable rage when Diana had surprised them all and shot into the air with no warning, flying off to God knew where, to find solitude in the skies.

_“This is your protection?!” he’d shouted at Hermes, feeling the throbbing of his fingers where Diana had nearly crushed his hand, where he was now opening and closing a fist to get the blood flowing again. "This is how you protect her as she travels, by letting the rest of your family make her flay open her own heart?!”_

_Hestia, the real target, had merely watched the skies in sorrow. Hermes had borne Bruce’s anger stoically, his own affection for Diana reeling in sympathy. “If you don’t wish to watch, you need not stay. I will convey you back to the other side of the veil anytime you wish, that was my solemn vow.”_

_Bruce glared._

_Hermes, unperturbed, continued. “And you, Bruce Wayne? Will you flay her heart too?”_

_Bruce had offered no answer, remembering her words. “I will remember again that I am feeling very vulnerable next to you," she'd said, "very on edge as I wait for you to decide what to do with the heart I placed in your hands.”_

“I can’t leave,” Bruce told the screen absently. When Alfred’s eyebrows rose, he amended. “I can, physically, I am free to do so, but it would be the wrong thing to do. This mission has been... difficult. For the Princess.” And for Bruce too; he hurt watching her continue to prove her goodness by sacrificing her own deepest longings on the altar of Zeus’s whims.

“I hope she is alright,” Alfred said, and the sincerity practically pouring from his surrogate father almost put a lump in Bruce’s throat.

“Physically, yes,” Bruce said. Rather than relieved, Alfred looked even more concerned. He narrowed his eyes at Bruce.

“I won’t tell you to take care of her,” he said, “because it’s laughable that she’d need you to.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” Bruce drawled.

“But, Bruce...” Alfred’s gaze pinned his would-be son, who, after all, had patented his own trademark Bat glare trying to put a malevolent spin on Alfred’s own implacable stare. “Bruce, try not to hurt her more, if you can bear not to sabotage yourself. And be assured; we will contact you should anything even approach getting out of hand. Go find Her Highness and be useful.”

When the screen clicked black, Bruce stared at it for some time. He’d been trying to be useful this whole time, hadn’t he? But Diana hadn’t needed his help hunting the stag or resisting the Styx. She’d not needed his help to figure out Hestia’s challenge, but hadn’t she nearly ground his fingers together after Menalippe vanished? Hadn’t she been able to turn her back on the illusion of Steve Trevor because of him?

But that train of thought brought no peace; Bruce had never been able to abide anyone being in love with him and had ruthlessly chased Talia and Selina away when they got too close, when he knew they could not fit into his mission. What business did Diana have, thinking she could love him, when his darkness was opaque and sticky like so much tar, and her light completely contagious and fragile, like laughter? It was madness, and he wanted to tell her that, so he found himself making his way to the door that led into the garden where the chaste trees reached for one another.

She was there, as he knew she would be, sitting in the grass in her fine white gown and her crown of gold laurels, staring at the door that would have taken her home. The house was quiet; the garden was quiet. He had time, as he walked across the small yard, to appreciate the lines of her back and then chastise himself for noticing, before he sat next to her, saying nothing. His cape rustled, disturbing the cowl that hung from the back of his neck; of course he’d stripped out of that tuxedo at the first moment.

“I have done right, Bruce” Diana said, leaning briefly against him and straightening again, “and I can’t decide if I regret it.”

Well, Bruce had precious little to say to that, as he can’t fathom that Diana could do anything BUT the right thing and also, that it would be completely inhuman NOT to regret it on some level. “I’ll remember again how terribly alone I feel in this world,” she’d said, and that with Menalippe sitting across the table, scowling comfortably at the God of Travelers. So, he said nothing, merely made himself comfortable on the grass next to her, lying on his back to stare at the sky. He’s glad for the bright moonlight, for the glowing torches of firelight around Hestia’s yard; Bruce hated the dark.

Minutes pass, and Diana leaned back and stretched on the ground next to him, white gown and all. She set the laurel crown on the ground next to her, and for a moment, Bruce was tempted to steal it. She relaxed into the earth with a sigh that broke his heart.

“There,” she says, and points to the moon. “Can you see her, can you make out Artemis in her chariot pulling the moon across the sky?”

His mind rejected the entire idea outright, but when Bruce squinted at the moon, the shimmery image of Artemis in her deer-drawn chariot glittered into existence.

“I’ll be damned,” he breathed.

Diana laid her hand over his. “No you won’t,” she said.

He smiled a little turning his hand so he could lace his fingers with hers. Yes, this-- touching her had always felt natural, like their bodies leaned towards one another. Maybe it was mutual, and he wasn’t just a sunflower, stuck on the ground, following the sun as she arced across the sky.

He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, how his throat burned when he remembered these last two challenges. The image of her on her knees, gripping the golden lasso she’d draped over her neck, howling in grief before the phantom of Steve Trevor... the image was imprinted on him, possibly forever, like the most terrible things.

Yet, even that had been easier for Bruce to bear than the dull blankness that had bled her features when Menalippe and Themyscira vanished before her eyes. He wanted to tell her he’d fix it, he’d find another way, that he had magicians in his city---Zatanna, surely, she’d know a way to the island---but Bruce said none of these things while he traced circles of her palm.

He remembered how useless those condolences and attempts to help had been when he’d grieved his parents, when he’d grieved Jason, when he’d had to face Gordon again after Barbara’s legs stopped moving.

There was nothing he could do in this moment, nothing that would fix any of it, so he squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, much gentler this time.

“This is not what I expected,” she said. He hoped she didn’t mean him. Hoped like hell she did. He said nothing.

“I imagined feats of strength,” she continued, “or tests of speed or cunning. I pictured facing a Cyclops or a Scylla, something to prove I am half-divine. Not this.” She put her free hand on her chest, fingers reaching like she would pull out her heart. He had the ridiculous impulse to stop her.

Did she not see, truly? Finally, Bruce thought, he could be of use.

“Perhaps they are not testing your divine gifts, Diana. Perhaps they are testing your human ones.”

She turned to watch him as he sat up, putting him in mind of the sunflower watching the sun. He wondered at that, wondered how she could watch him so attentively. What did she see?

“A goddess,” he ventured, “would test the Styx, see if she could journey to the Underworld and return. A goddess--other than Artemis herself--might not cherish the life of a deer, even the Silver Stag. A goddess might demand her own passage home, not sacrifice it for someone else.”

He swallowed, for the last was the hardest.

“A goddess might take little notice of a mortal man. A goddess might get over his death quickly. A goddess might be tempted to never notice a second mortal man. If she did...love a second one, she certainly might avoid giving him any choice in the matter.”

She was quiet, still lying on the grass and looking up at him with an expression he couldn’t read. He watched as a single tear slid into her hair, unimpeded.

“‘What is man that you are mindful of him? And the son of man that you care for him?’” Bruce quoted the Psalms absently.

Diana breathed a laugh.

“Blasphemer,” she said, making it an affectionate nickname. She sat up, criss-crossing her legs. She returned a quote to him from Genesis. “‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness...and God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good.’” She grinned suddenly and said, “And who could forget? ‘It is not good that the one should be alone.’”

He smiled.

“Bruce,” Diana said. She pulled his hand to her mouth, looked to him for something--consent perhaps. When he inclined his head, she kissed his knuckles. When he couldn’t stop himself from shivering, when he sat up and reached for her face, running a thumb over her cheekbone, she closed her eyes and sighed.

“Diana,” he whispered. “I cannot take the way out that you offered me. I want to run, but I never want to escape you.”

“I could be your friend,” she said, pressing his palm to her cheek with her own, closing her eyes. “I could do only this, if you asked me to. As long as I could be with you, I could be only your friend.”

Bruce said, “Please don’t,” then pulled her into a kiss. There was a thrill as he tasted her, knowing he couldn’t move her, couldn’t overpower her unless she allowed it. And she did, taking her own plunder with her fingers in his hair and holding him tighter than anyone ever had. And there was another thrill, knowing he could never force her let go, and yet that she would, if he asked.

She let him push her, gently, back to the grass; she let him kiss her neck and run his hands up the length of her leg, and higher. He grinned when she bit at his lips, when she tired of letting him lead and rolled on top of him. His hand wasn’t fooled, following her thighs.

“May I touch you, Diana?” he breathed in her ears. And Diana, who was not from a nation of prudes--and nor had she been a prude in the last one hundred years, since pleasure was comfort, and humans, lovely-- thought this moment was perhaps the most erotic of her long life.

“Yes,” she whispered, and her fingers tightened around his biceps, just enough to send his blood soaring, but not enough to hurt. Incensed, burning even--was he not?-- Bruce kissed her, conquering her lips, while one hand caressed her hair, traced her waist, touching as much of her as he could with all the awe he felt; all this as his other hand explored the deepest of Diana.

He felt aware of everything-- the moonlight’s glow on Diana’s face; the still-healing wound on her arm that he kissed with gratitude; the way she refused to close her eyes even as ecstasy took her; the feel of her hands gripping his bicep and his hair; the way her body wept and seized for him. And the look in her eyes, that sated look filled with hope and desire, that look that filled him with fear-- that look in her eyes made him feel powerful. And more frightening, more thrilling, was the affection and the awe and the desperate, heart-pounding need he had for her to be happy.

When she made to roll off of him to the grass, he caught her with his right arm, pulled her to his side, and they fit, somehow; impossibly, equally, matched.

XXX

When dawn broke, Diana’s eyes opened. If she squinted, she could see Apollo pulling the sun from the horizon, spilling the tiniest beginnings of pink and yellow into the lightening blue sky. She was still on the grass, she realized, and because Hestia’s magic is one of comfort, she was not cold or sore or bitten by bugs. She whispered a prayer of thanks that became longer when she realized Bruce was still beside her and miraculously, he was asleep.

She used the gift of Hermes to float up silently, attempting not to disturb him. He muttered and adjusted his position on the ground, but remained asleep. Unusual, she thought, and looked around. She saw Hestia on the deck, still dressed in her finery, watching them with a sad smile. She waved; Diana lifted a hand in return. But when Hestia’s eyes widened and her wave turned to a frantic pointing, Diana whirled and saw Hera, Queen of the Gods, approaching them.

“Bruce,” she whispered, urgency in her breath. She did not reach for her sword, or shield, which were suddenly at her back as her armor coated her once more.

Bruce’s eyes popped open and he was standing beside her, cowl over his face and a batarang in his hand. He took in Diana’s tense stance at his right and the crowned woman approaching them. On his left, he sensed Hestia and Hermes before they appeared. The other two deities held themselves rigid; Diana offered a bow.

“Queen Mother,” Diana called, when Hera stopped her approach with fifteen feet between her and their line of defense. “You honor us.”

Hera smiled; it was not a kind expression.

“My lady Hera,” Hermes ventured. “Two challenges remain for Diana, from Demeter and Athena. She is to prove herself before she approaches the throne.”

“Who’s throne?” Hera wondered. “Mine? Or the throne of Zeus? And to what end? Are we to allow this Amazon free reign through Olympus until she ascends a throne of her own making, built on our fallen bodies?”

Diana shuddered; Bruce didn’t take her hand. To draw attention to himself would be to become a target, a tool to manipulate her. He tried to imagine what it would be like for Jesus himself to accuse a devout Christian of blasphemy and betrayal, to get a sense of how Hera’s words stung Diana.

“Honored Sister,” Hestia said, rebuke in her tone. “Diana has no such ambition. The lasso tells me this truth.”

Hera waved that off. “Not now, perhaps. But one day, she may.” She crossed her arms, causing the green of her gown to shimmer in the dawn’s light. “I will have my test, Daughter of Hippolyta. You may prove your devotion then, and perhaps I will kill you quickly; for now, I believe, it is my sister’s turn.”

Hera blinked out of existence, and the ground began to shake. Up ahead, a creature hidden by trees and dim light, roared and the earth shook again when a large foot hit the ground.

“Go Diana!” Hestia cried, and the three took off, Hermes flying and Diana and Bruce running side by side.

“Didn’t you say something about a how you expected to fight a giant monster?” Bruce quipped, inwardly gawking at himself. He never quipped.

But the joy from last night would not ebb, and he clung to it.

“Spoke too soon, it seems,” Diana shot back, the thrill of battle warming her veins. She snatched her shield from its place on her back, checked for the lasso where it rested, as ever, at her hips. “Thank you, Hestia!” she called, without looking back. When they saw a gigantic tree crash to the ground, Bruce and Diana both grinned and ran straight towards it.  _Finally,_ they both thought.  _Something easy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome for the lemons. >.>
> 
> Now let's get to smashing some stuff, battling mythical creatures, and pissing off the gods. Thanks for going on this ride with me! I appreciate your comments! 
> 
> -rosa


	9. Impulses

_“Didn’t you say something about a how you expected to fight a giant monster?” Bruce quipped, inwardly gawking at himself. He never quipped. But the joy from last night would not ebb, and he clung to it._

_“Spoke too soon, it seems,” Diana shot back, the thrill of battle warming her veins. She snatched her shield from its place on her back, checked for the lasso where it rested, as ever, at her hips. “Thank you, Hestia!” she called, without looking back. When they saw a gigantic tree crash to the ground, Bruce and Diana both grinned and ran straight towards it. Finally, they thought; something easy._

“Hera said this was her sister’s test!” Bruce yelled over the sound of something huge wreaking havoc in the woods. “That leaves Demeter, since Athena is Zeus’s daughter.” He remembered the myth that Athena had burst from Zeus’s head and frowned, wondering if Athena would be an ally or an obstacle. “But I thought Demeter was goddess of the harvest and agriculture!” Nimbly, he tucked and rolled when he saw a tree crashing towards him.

Diana caught the falling tree, her warrior’s cry splitting the air as she hefted it away from them. “Demeter blessed me with the strength of the earth,” she shouted back. “Plus, in Greece, it is still winter! Demeter’s probably not in good spirits until the Equinox!”

Bruce leapt over another felled tree, recalling his lessons. Persephone, he remembered; Demeter’s daughter doomed to the Underworld to be with Hades during the fall and winter, free to be with her mother during spring and summer. He fired a grapple into another tree, flipped the switch, and let it reel him up into the branches, where he pulled himself up. Diana flew up, hovered beside him. Bruce pulled the branches down so they could see. His jaw dropped.

“Is that... what I think it is?”

Diana looked grim. “Yes. That is Cerberus, the hound of hell. Who, then, is guarding the gate then, Lord Hermes?

Bruce looked to his left, where Hermes floated, snacking on berries without a care in the world. “What, no popcorn?” Bruce asked.

Hermes blinked. “No what?”

“Never mind.”

Hermes popped a berry into his mouth, watching the enormous three-headed monstrous hound thrash through the forest with vague interest. He said, “Hades should be able to mind the door and keep the dead within for a short time. He has no shortage of monsters at his disposal if he’s above the duty himself.”

“Is this the test then? Subdue Cerberus?” Diana eyed the three sets of snapping jaws and the bloody canines sticking from each of the three rows of teeth. Spittle flew as he snarled and snapped. She narrowed her eyes at the hissing and snapping serpent that was Cerberus’s tail.

“Perhaps.” Hermes pointed to the ground where two figures were watching. Diana could make out their vague outlines when she squinted. The first was a woman swathed in green and yellow, wearing a crown of wheat. Demeter, as expected. The second was a woman wearing silver armor with a red cape, and a plume of red feathers in her helmet. Diana swallowed when the unfamiliar sensation of nerves fluttered in her gut. Though she felt devotion towards Hera and all her patrons, Pallas Athena had been the one she prayed to most as a child, the one who she revered above all others-- even more so, in her heart, than Hera herself. Diana had never dared speak this aloud.

“Demeter and Athena,” Batman observed, noting the way Diana’s eyes latched onto the latter goddess, how her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “A combined test of strength and strategy, it seems, Diana. Would you like my assistance?” He was braced to be turned down, something about how this was her fight, her challenge. It’s what he would have done.

But Diana shook herself free of the anxiety, saying a prayer to Artemis for protection and a clean hunt instead. Perhaps in response, she felt the thrill of the hunt spark in her again. She grinned, met Bruce’s eyes. “Of course,” she said, palming her lasso and gathering a length in her hands. “Mind the teeth, both canine and serpent; Cerberus is venomous.”

“The claws too?” Bruce eyed them; they gleamed in the sunlight.

“No,” Diana said, smirking. “They just hurt. And remember: we aim to subdue, not to kill.”

Bruce smirked back. “Don’t I always?”

Diana rolled her eyes. “You go low; I go high.” And she zoomed off, swinging the lasso with a warcry. Bruce grinned, pulled his cowl over his face, checked his grapple guns, and then dropped out of the tree. Neither saw Hermes perch at the top of the tallest tree to watch the show.

“Cerberus!” Diana screamed as she flew. The gruesome creature halted his rampage and focused on her. All three jaws snapped. With a shout in Greek, she swung the lasso and yanked hard. The end looped around the right head’s jaw, and she pulled it shut. The head whined, and the other two snapped and growled in fury, sending spittle flying.

Diana shouted another Greek word, and yanked hard, attempted to bring the creature down. Cerberus groaned, foaming at two of three mouths, as he struggled against her.

Batman tossed a canister that started hissing and spewing gas upon impact under the hellhound’s left head. Cerberus’s snarling snout sucked in a full inhale of gas before the creature jerked and rolled away. Diana, still gripping the lasson to hold the right head’s jaw shut, stumbled and then floated forward as the creature rolled. The left head, now asleep, hung limply, throwing the creature off balance.

With the left head asleep and the right muzzled by the golden perfect, the center head resumed it's snarls and snapping. It attempted to dive at Batman, who tucked and rolled away, and Diana pulled hard, keeping the creature from attacking. With a fierce cry, she yanked with all her might and brought Cerberus to his knees.

The center head growled and struggled, snapping it’s teeth at Diana and attempted to pull itself out of her grasp. “Peace, Cerberus!” she cried. “We mean you no harm.”

Diana could feel the skeptical fury in the hellhound; she felt him resolve to destroy them. Frustrated, she tugged and pulled, hoping to pull him closer to her, but the one free jaw would present a problem if she tried to approach. So, Diana, in blurred seconds, made a loop on the other end of the lasso and tossed it, pulling on the lariat until Cerberus’s center head was muzzled too. Still, the two trapped heads of Cerberus let out a frightening growl through as she pulled hard to keep the creature on its knees.

“Great Cerberus, please!”

The creature snarled and resumed it's mighty struggle against Diana’s grip. She screamed, from deep in her chest, as she tried to contain him.

Batman snuck closer, considering. While the creature was focused on Diana, he could take better aim. If the sleeping gas could neutralize one or both of the remaining heads, Cerberus could be subdued and sent back to the Underworld, which he supposed he had to believe in now. Diana just had to get close enough to touch it safely and calm it.

Though, he had to wonder-- why hadn’t she just picked it up and thrown it into the mountainside? She’d have a good reason.

From behind the creature, Bruce tossed a second canister, hissing and spewing gas as it rolled under Cerberus and stopped just under his heads. Diana screamed again, yanked the center head into the gas before the creature managed to roll away again. She let herself be pulled by the lasso, floating. She took pity on the creature, two of his three heads limply hanging in sleep and the third, dazed.

Impulsively, still gripping the lasso like a horse’s bridle, Diana flew and landed on the creature’s back, quickly pulling her makeshift bridle tight. Cerberus reared, howling through it's closed jaws. Vaguely, Diana registered a hiss behind her and a stinging sensation at the back of her neck. She shook it off.

“Great Cerberus!” she shouted. “Mighty hellhound! Feel the truth of my words!”

The lasso glowed; Cerberus stilled.

“I mean you no harm. I am Diana of Themyscira--I swear to you, you will not be harmed. Be at peace, and I will release you. You will be fully awake and back home soon. Peace. Please.”

Feeling the truth from her and compelled by the lasso, Cerberus lay down. The right head, the only one awake, let out a quiet whine then sighed.

“Thank you, my friend,” Diana said, stroking his side from where she sat behind his heads. With a flick of her wrists, the lasso fell away, re-coiling itself as she placed it back on her hip. Bruce stood, brushed himself off. He froze when he saw her, seriously considering snapping a picture. Wonder Woman, riding the Hound of Hell.

She slid off the creature’s back, keeping a soothing hand on Cerberus as Demeter and Athena approached. Bruce stood at her side, offering a quick nudge, shoulder-to-shoulder. She smiled, feeling heat flood her neck and up her face. She knelt respectfully as the goddesses stopped in front of them.

“Rise, Princess,” said Athena. Diana shivered a little, chilled by her hero’s voice. She stood at attention. “My lady Athena. My lady Demeter. You honor us.”

Demeter, wrapped in her golden and green robes and wheat crown, inclined her head. “You use your strength wisely and well, child. You subdued Cerberus without causing him harm. He may be a fearsome creature, but he is ours, and he serves a great purpose.” She looked with kindness toward the creature, though her features were drawn and sad. “Persephone is fond of him. I am proud to see my gifts used with kindness and generosity. Well done, Diana.”

Diana nodded slowly, feeling a strange sense of overwhelm settle on her. “Thank you, my lady.” She spoke deliberately, feeling her heart pound.

Bruce watched Diana in the corner of his eye; she sounded off, she looked flushed. But he chalked it up to the genuine awe and worship he saw in her eyes as Athena stepped forward, unsheathing her great golden sword.

“My sister,” Athena spoke proudly and deeply; her voice seemed to echo in the woods. The red plumes in her helmet stood out in the green and brown landscape. “You have battled bravely and intelligently; your strategy was both wise, and as Demeter has said, kind. You accepted help from a comrade, and you consistently strove to end the conflict. And you did it all with a fierceness that appeals to me.” She grinned, reminding Bruce of Menalippe. “You will carry my blessing, always; I have always heard your prayers. I have tried to attend them from behind the veil, with what limited power I still have.”

Diana sucked in a breath, fighting dizziness. “Th--thank you, my lady. You honor me.”

“The honor is mine,” the goddess said. Then, Athena lifted her sword, and laid the flat of it on Diana’s shoulder. Diana drew in a deep breath, straightened. Bruce swore she was trembling.

“You have passed our tests, Diana of Themyscira. You are worthy of our blessings, and I, for one, am proud to call you sister.”

Diana felt like time was slowing, like she might not be able to speak if she tried, or maybe her heart would run out of her chest. She managed, “Thank you, my lady.”

“We will meet again, Diana of Themyscira,” Athena promised with a smile.

“A good harvest to you, child,” Demeter said. And in a blink, both vanished along with Cerberus.

Diana blew out her breath, even wobbled a bit. “Wow,” she said. With a smile, Bruce nudged her shoulder again in congratulations, then caught her arm when she wobbled more. She waved him off.

“Now what?” Bruce wondered. He didn’t let go of her elbow.

Always one for an entrance, Hermes swooped down beside them, the tiny wings on his sandals flapping away. “Now it’s time to seek audience with the Great Father himself!” the messenger god declared. “Brava, Diana! Bravo, mortal!” Hermes grinned when Bruce rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Diana felt herself smile at their antics. She felt herself take a step to follow Hermes, but then, her leg folded under her like paper. Vaguely, she felt Bruce’s arms when he lunged for her.

“Diana?”

She regretted the fear in his voice, but the thickness in her mouth and mind prevented her from answering. She blinked hard, trying to bring his face into focus.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. Hermes hovered over Bruce’s shoulder, looking confused.

Diana remembered the hiss, the sting at her neck when she’d leapt onto Cerberus’s back. And she knew.

“Bruce...” she rasped. He jerked his cowl off, paling visibly and leaning close. “My neck,” she wheezed. “Bite.”

Swallowing hard, Bruce adjusted Diana in his arms, and Hermes lifted her hair. She heard the god suck in a breath through his teeth; she felt Bruce’s fingers press into her skin a little harder. Her body felt heavy, numb, tingly. Not good.

“The serpent head, Cerberus’s tail, it bit her,” Hermes said. “She’s dying.”

Bruce blinked. “That’s ridiculous. She’s divine.”

“So is Cerberus,” Hermes answered grimly.

Diana fought to keep her eyes open as Bruce readjusted her in his arms, so he was cradling her. Her vision was tunnelling, her skin burning, and every bone in her body ached. She couldn’t swallow the groan as he moved her.

“So heal her!” Bruce ordered, gently tapping her cheeks as her eyes fluttered. “Diana. Diana, stay. Stay with me.”

“That’s not my gift!” Hermes shouted. “We need help.”

“Diana, please.” Bruce swept matted hair out of her face, leaned in close. His hand shook. She blinked rapidly, fighting for consciousness. “That’s good, yes. Stay with me, please.” To Hermes, Bruce said, “Help from whom?” He didn’t look away from Diana’s face.

Her brows pinched. “Ah. Ah. Apollo,” she whispered. She took a shaky breath, closing her eyes against the pain when Bruce pulled her into his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. And she prayed into Bruce’s ear.

“Apollo. Help me.” Then, all went dark for her and the tension bled out of her muscles.

Bruce gripped her, cradling her again as she went limp. He was not a pious man. But he believed in her.

“APOLLO!”

Hermes had considered flying off to find the god of the sun, music, and medicine, but when Bruce’s agonized roar made him jump, he abandoned that plan. Diana’s pasty complexion and shallow breaths assured him there was no time for that. So, he too screamed his brother’s name to the sky. “Apollo!”

Bruce used his free hand to find his med-scanner in his belt, scanning Diana’s vitals. Her heart was racing, and even as he scanned her, she paled further and lurched, and he was able to help her roll on her side to vomit once into the grass. She moaned, shuddering in Batman’s frantic embrace.

So focused he was on tending to her, Bruce missed the blink of gold light behind him, didn’t see the tanned god with yellow hair and simple white toga and sandals appear. Bruce whipped his head around when he heard a new voice. He watched the new god approach with both hope and dread.

“I heard Diana’s prayer,” Apollo said. His voice was music, a rich tenor. “And yours, brother. And yours, Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce stiffened when Apollo knelt beside him. The god’s hand gently cupped her head, and Bruce gently shifted her hair to the side, revealing the two fang marks, swollen, like a red and purple softball. Like Hermes, Apollo hissed in alarm. “Cerberus! This is a fatal wound. We must go to Delphi, where my limited power is strongest, if I can hope to heal her.”

The woods vanished in a blinding flash of gold light before Bruce’s eyes.

XXX

Bruce gripped Diana for that blurred trip through the void. He barely noted the temple of Delphi when the light faded; instead, he checked--Diana was still breathing. He snarled wordlessly when Hermes and Apollo first attempted to lift her from his arms.

“This will be delicate magic,” Hermes urged. “Apollo is her best hope.” Batman hesitated, but Hermes said, “Bruce, please.”

That did it; Bruce surrendered, allowing the gods to lift Diana and place her on a high stone table at the center of the temple. Bruce wondered if the table was meant for blood sacrifices.

Hermes stepped back, siding with Bruce.

Apollo let his hands over on either side of Diana’s neck. Then, he began to sing.

Bruce hated magic. But in that moment, when golden light began to emanate from Diana and Apollo, when her eyelids fluttered, he had never felt so grateful for it in his life. Apollo’s voice swelled, filling the room with sound, energy, and power that made Batman’s cape flutter. His song was in ancient Greek, so Bruce didn’t catch much of it, but Apollo’s face was full of emotion and his eyes were tearing. If Bruce could put an word to the expression and feel of the song, he’d chose “pleading.”

"Add your voice,” Hermes hissed urgently. “Sing!”

Bruce turned baffled eyes on him. “Sing what?!”

“Anything. It doesn’t matter. Apollo will do the rest, and he’s the god of music too. Sing anything and send it to her.” And with that, Hermes opened his mouth to sing too-- his brassy baritone, vibrating with emotion, carried no words, just a long, meandering “la” going up and down the scale, harmonizing with Apollo.

Bruce battled against his every instinct screaming that it was all ridiculous, that Diana even dying was ridiculous, that music and magic and gods were nothing and Diana needed a hospital, that this absurdity would do nothing for her, but then he remembered Diana’s breathless awe at meeting Athena and the prayer to Apollo she’d whispered in his ear before she passed out.

Diana believed in this power. And he believed in her. So, he sang. He sang the first song that popped into his head.

 _Am I blue? Am I blue?_  
_Ain’t these tears in my eyes tellin’ you?_

 _Am I blue? You’d be too!_  
_If every plan that you had done fell through._

 _There was a time I was your only one,_  
_but now I’m the sad and lonely one._  
_Oh, I was gay, until today,_  
_but now she’s gone, and we’re through._  
_Am I blue?_

And as he sang, his deep bass joining the voices of the gods, the golden light grew and grew until the brightness blinded him. Still, he sang. And when the light faded with the song, there she lay.

Sweaty. Still. But full of color, chest rising and falling with easy, even breaths. Holding his breath, Bruce approached, med-scanned her again.

“She’s... sleeping,” he breathed.

He reached for the stone table for support as his knees turned to water.

“Well done, brother,” Hermes commended quietly.

Apollo let his hands fall, stepped away from Diana for a moment, looking wan. “If not for both of your songs, your speed Hermes, and this mortal’s belief, it could not be done.” Apollo answered, still winded.

“I am not your devotee,” Bruce said automatically. He pulled off a gauntlet to touch Diana’s face, tracing her cheekbones and resting his hand in her hair. Gently, he lifted her head, and yes, the bite marks were gone. Her skin was damp, but neither cold nor fevered.

“Not mine, no,” Apollo said, unconcerned. He turned to Hermes, who, with the danger passed, slid down a wall theatrically and let out a huge sigh.

“Brother, how did Diana come to be bitten by Cerberus?”

“Demeter and Athena,” the god of travelers answered sullenly. “A joint test of strength and wisdom. Subdue the Hound of Hell.” He gestured to Diana. “She passed.”

“Really?” Apollo blinked. “Wouldn’t receiving a fatal wound disqualify her from winning a test of strategy?”

Bruce, still standing over Diana and drinking her face and breaths like a dying man, bristled, feeling defensive. But before he could speak up, anger flooded him. Anger at her-- she’d been impulsive. Shed nearly died. And then, his anger melted away into a sick fear.

Hermes, unaware of his new friend’s storm of emotion, waved away Apollo’s doubt. “Athena has not appeared out of nowhere to revoke her blessing.” He shrugged. “She praised Diana’s strategy--her wisdom, compassion, and skills in battle. Diana got close to Cerberus so she could use Artemis’s gift to communicate with Cerberus and calm him. I suspect that’s when she was bitten, in the instant before he trusted her. Diana was injured in her attempt to show compassion. She was impulsive.”

Apollo blinked. “Compassion. For Cerberus. The Hound of Hell.”

Hermes grinned. “Yep.”

Apollo studied Diana, and, unobtrusively, the man hovering over her. He tapped his chin, considering. “She didn’t get that kind of compassion from Athena,” he said.

“She didn’t get it from any of you,” Bruce said, before he’d really decided to speak at all. “Or Hippolyta. It’s who she is.”

Apollo studied the mortal man, remembering his twin sister’s scandalized gossip. This man, Bruce Wayne, the way he touched her, the way he’d sang... so. Artemis was right. Again.

A glance at Hermes revealed that the messenger god was half-asleep on the floor, crashing after the excitement of morning. So Apollo pulled up one of the high stone benches--a display of strength that Bruce watched without blinking--and sat. The sun-kissed god gestured to the other end of the bench.

“She will live,” Apollo said. “Sit. Keep your vigil, but rest too. Healing is exhausting for everyone, and you gave nearly as much effort as I.”

Bruce frowned at that, but he did sit, still holding Diana’s hand in his own.

“I sang a song,” Bruce said. Apollo nodded.

“Yes. Thank you. Music gives me power, and your voice is beautiful. But not simply music, but music with belief.”

Bruce looked away, back to Diana’s face. He remembered briefly, how that face had twisted in sadness when she turned her back on Steve Trevor. He remembered how her features had relaxed in pleasure as Bruce’s hand guided her to orgasm. Before he could castigate himself for thinking of that moment now, his mind wrenched back to focus, reminding him of how her face had looked on the brink of death. She must be better in the future, he thought; he’d help her, get her to be less impulsive. That way, she could live for centuries. Her death had seemed impossible; now it seemed unforgivable. The world needed her.

“Ah,” Apollo sighed. “There it is. You believe in her. It is so strong an filled your music with power. I have not felt such belief in so long. That’s how I was able to heal her; your belief helped me because it helped her body assist in it's own healing. Diana is like us--belief makes her stronger.”

Bruce pondered this. It made sense, if Zeus biologically fathered her. Genetically, she was half Olympian; her body would be like theirs, her physiology and abilities would respond to belief as theirs did. And he did believe in her. More and more each day. Even with the impulsiveness. Perhaps he wouldn’t be able to train it out of her-- she had many centuries more training than he did, after all. And still, when she had the chance to show compassion, even at risk to herself, she would. It was who she is.

“You love her,” Apollo said.

“She’s my teammate. A fellow warrior. My friend. Of course I do.” Bruce sold the lie with his flat tone, as if anything different was completely absurd. Apollo frowned.

“Of course,” he allowed. “Perhaps you were disturbed to see her so injured.”

“That was new,” Bruce agreed. “I never realized Diana could even receive a fatal wound.”

And he hated, truly hated the part of his brain that wanted to catalog this discovery next to Clark’s kryptonite. The venom of Cerberus to the neck could take down the Amazon princess. But he remembered--Clark was dead. Fear seized his gut, and Bruce vowed to himself that no one would ever know of this. He would take it to his grave.

“Perhaps on your side of reality, Diana is nearly impossible to kill,” Apollo mused. “She can deflect projectiles. She has rapid healing thanks to the ichor in her blood. She is one of the greatest warriors any world has ever known. She does not age. But here...”

Apollo uncovered the wound on Diana’s arm, sucking his teeth in sympathy. “My sister regrets this still,” he murmured. “She thought you were attacking Diana.”

Bruce stared at her arm; the wound was still red, and as he watched, it still seeped blood. Apollo hummed for a moment-- her arm glowed and the wound knit itself closed. “Here,” Apollo said, “in our world, Diana is among equals. Equals with divine weapons. Creatures with divine venom. She did not send ARes to Tartarus easily--he put up quite a fight. Diana can die-- she may not age, but she is not immortal. Nothing is guaranteed. Especially when she is compassionate, hot-tempered, and impulsive.”

Heere, Apollo smiled. “She reminds me of Artemis. The Romans even used to call her Diana. She is impossible, yet I love her more than anyone else in any world.”

Bruce stared at his Diana’s sleeping features, relaxed and innocent. He wanted to take her from this place, yet he knew they must finish it to the end. Hera was still a problem. Zeus was still an unknown.

Diana could die. This seemed... unthinkable. He stewed over it until he realized Apollo had been silent for too long. He looked over, saw the sun god staring blankly into space, his face slack. Bruce watched for another two minutes until Apollo blinked and shook his head to clear it.

“What the hell was that.” Bruce said it like it wasn't a question.

Apollo seemed to study him with new eyes. “This is a place of oracles and prophecies,” the god said, “and I am its master.”

“Well, save it,” Bruce interrupted. “I’d rather not know my future. Self-fulfilling and all that. Don’t tell me.” He hesitated. “Unless-- did you see Diana’s future? Tell me.”

Apollo smiled. “You cannot have it both ways, Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce’s mind whirled, processing. “What?” he managed.

“If I reveal Diana’s future,” Apollo said, “I will reveal your own.”

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my DCAU fans enjoyed the call-back to JLU-- I couldn't resist when it fit so well. We're nearing the end, folks! Only a few more chapters to go!


	10. Zeus

Diana jerked awake with a quick gasp through her nose. She sat up, heart-pounding, hand flying to the back of her neck to feel... nothing. Just smooth skin and tangled hair. She stared, taking in the sight of Delphi around her-- the crumbling columns where the circle of prayer once was, and beyond, rolling green swathed in dusk’s rosy glow. She felt the muscles in her body slowly relax as she took in the beauty; all of the drawings in hier history books had done the landscape of Delphi no justice.

She saw no one else around her, heard nothing but the quiet breeze. Maybe Apollo heard her prayer, brought her to Delphi... maybe it was too late. Maybe her body had succumbed to the venom, and she’d died. Panicked, she reached for her belt and sagged in relief when she found her coin there. She studied it, her heart pounding.

“Put that back,” a deep voice rasped. Diana jumped, then leaned over to peer at the floor. Beside the legs of the high stone table where she lay, Bruce Wayne sat up, rubbing his eyes. Of course, she thought. Of course he’d sleep easier in the day. Then, horror suddenly filled her.

“Bruce?! Did Cerberus bite you too?! Hera, I will never forgive myself.”

He blinked, processing. Then, of all things, he laughed. She gawked at him as he pulled himself to his feet then sat on the table next to her, still chuckling.

“Diana,” he said, “you’re not dead. Neither am I. Apollo heard your prayer. He and Hermes whisked us here, to Delphi, where his power is strongest. He healed you. So, despite your best efforts to the contrary, you are not dead but blessedly alive.”

Ah, under that tired laughter, she heard it. He was angry. Angry and blessedly alive, like her. Diana grinned, her head slowly clearing, and swung her legs around so they dangled next to his.

“Oh? Is this upsetting to you?” She couldn’t stop smiling now, drunk on defeating death, drunk on life, hers and his.

“Well this entire mission-- well, most of it,” he allowed, “has been pretty fucking upsetting to me if you want the truth, Princess.” His anger burned hot with something else in his eyes, something exciting that she felt fluttering in her chest. “Especially the part where you were careless and almost died!”

Frenzied, he hopped off the table and began to pace. “How could you be so irresponsible? Diana, the world needs you! Clark’s gone; we can’t lose you too!”

Diana slid off the table, testing the steadiness of her legs. Bruce watched her like a hawk in case she fell, but her legs were strong and her divine grace returned. She felt energized and content. Bruce’s gaze followed her as she approached, followed her hand as she laid it on his chest. “We?” she repeated softly.

His eyes darted to her face, then away again. “We, yes. The world. Humanity.”

She smiled, her hand sliding over his chest, then down his arm to grip his hand. “Humanity gets on fine without me most days. They have other heroes. They have each other. They have you, Bruce.”

He opened his mouth to say it, that he couldn’t bear to lose her, that he needed her as much as the rest of humanity, or more maybe, but she silenced him with a finger tip to his lips enjoying the flush that started in his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. His mouth shut; his eyes burned into hers.

“When I was dying,” she said, “regret was my only thought. I was not afraid to die; I never have been. I was only sorry to hear your fear. I was impulsive, yes.” She smirked. “I often am. And at my age, I probably always will be. Until I die.”

He flinched, just slightly; closed his eyes and shuddered.

“And I will, Bruce. One day. I am a warrior. I have never expected to live forever.”

She touched his cheek, pressed gently so he would look at her-- she could have forced him, he knew. She didn’t; he allowed it.

“Bruce, your fear, your sadness, your anger-- they are gifts to me. They show us the measure of what would have been lost. And I feel them too. I feel sad to have caused you pain, and I am angry at myself. And when I was dying, I feared losing you.” Her voice wavered, but her gaze was steady. The tears gathering in her eyes nearly did him in. “Especially as I’ve only just found you, Bruce.”

“Impossible woman,” he said. “I’m trying to be angry here.” And he kissed her. It turned frantic quickly, almost desperate with none of the gentle seduction of the previous night. They clung to each other, devouring each other until Brush pushed her against the table. She pulled him on top of her, gasping as his hand found her breast and his lips, her neck.

He was losing himself in the soft sounds she made and the taste of lips when he heard a cough behind him. Bruze froze then let his head drop onto her shoulder, letting out a loud moan of frustration. Diana blew out air through her lips and sat up, giving him a final, gentle kiss on the cheek. He stared her down as she did it, making her smile.

The two gods watched; Hermes, with glee, and Apollo, with curiosity.

“Lord Apollo. Lord Hermes,” she greeted them warmly, standing to offer a short bow. “I owe you both a great debt.”

Diana elbowed Bruce discreetly.

“I hate you both,” Bruce said.

Diana gasped, but Hermes laughed, deep from his belly. “I’m sure you do,” he wheezed, slapping his thigh.

Apollo ignored all this to study Diana, pleased with the healthy flush in her cheeks and the smoothness in her movements. “I could not have healed you without Bruce Wayne,” Apollo said. “Perhaps, one day, you will get to enjoy his music.”

Curious, Diana glanced at Bruce, but he’d pulled his cowl over his face and his lips were flat. She filed it away for later.

“For now,” Apollo continued, “night is falling-- it is time for me to meet my twin sister in the skies.”

“Tell Artemis thank you,” Diana said, “for her blessing before our battle with Cerberus. And thank you, Lord Apollo, for your healing. I will not squander it.”

“I would expect nothing less of our champion,” he said, smiling. “I hope you will not have need of my blessing again, unless it is for music or a glimpse of your future.” He looked at Bruce. “If you care to know it, that is.”

Bruce stiffened, but Diana waved that away, smiling. “I will discover it soon enough in my own time,” she said. “Thank you, my lord. Sunset awaits.”

“Indeed,” Apollo said. And with sharp whistle, a glowing gold chariot burst into being, pulled by white winged horses. Apollo jumped in, snapped the reins, and soon, they were streaking across the sky toward the sun. They all watched him, as his chariot pulled the sun below the horizon, and then, their eyes found Artemis’s silver chariot, pulling the moon to replace it.

Hermes broke the awed silence with a long-suffering sigh. “Those two, so dramatic.”

The white lenses of Bruce’s cowl narrowed at Hermes. The god of travelers blinked innocently, then grinned.

“Bruce,” Diana said. “This is your third night away from Gotham.” She squeezed his hand. “If you need Hermes to return you to the Javelin, I understand. I will face Zeus and Hera tonight.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Bruce said, watching her bristle with insult. “I am with you to the end.” And just as quickly, her indignation faded to a soft smile as he squeezed her hand in return.

“Thank you,” she said. “I am glad not to have to face them alone.” Her eyes went back to the darkening sky and the stars slowly appearing there. “Tonight, I may learn the truth about my birth. I am not sure which outcome I dread more-- learning that my mother lied or learning that Queen of Heaven lied.”

Of course, he thought. Of course the truth would matter most to her.

“Whatever you learn, Princess,” Bruce said, “it does not define you. You define yourself.”

Hermes nodded. “Yes. You have proven your worthiness time and time over. Whatever the Great Father has planned, I know he will be proud. That was his end game, after all, to show you off. And the Queen Mother... perhaps, you may win her over yet.”

“Whatever will be will be,” Diana said, and squared her shoulders. “Take me to them, Hermes. Let us end this tonight.”

XXX

True to his nature, Hermes transported them into the fray with a flash of golden light and while Bruce and Diana’s eyes adjusted, shouted out their arrival, heralding Diana in true royal style. Bruce could have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t tense enough to shatter.

“Behold Diana of Themyscira, Princess of Themyscira, Champion of the Amazons, and the Chosen One of Her Patrons!”

Bruce, relieved to be excluded from that nonsense, surveyed their surroundings from behind Diana and Hermes. They found themselves in some sort of outdoor throne room. A man in a large golden throne-- Zeus, he decided--sat at the center of a semicircle of six smaller thrones on each side. He recognized Hera to Zeus’s right, seething in her sumptuous emerald toga and golden crown. Down Hera’s side of the semicircle was Poseidon--hard to get that wrong with the man’s giant trident and crown of giant shells-- followed by Aphrodite, Demeter, and Dionysus. The final man had to be Dionysus since he was draped in grapevines, shirtless, and grinning wildly with the gleam of drink in his eyes. An empty throne sat between Aphrodite and Hera; in it rested a helmet and a spear. Ares, Bruce guessed. The evidence of Diana’s victory over a god before their eyes.

On Zeus’s left was Athena, Artemis, Apollo, Hephaestus-- Bruce guessed by the giant blonde man’s disfigured leg and giant hammer-- then Hestia, and finally, an empty throne. Hermes, his duty complete for the moment, kissed Diana’s hand then flew with his winged sandals to rest on the throne next to Hestia.

Batman counted several unknowns-- Zeus, being the greatest-- as well as Hephaestus, Poseidon, and Dionysus. Actually, he put Aphrodite in the unknown camp as well; she’d been aggressive and cruel, angry at Diana for casting Ares to Tartarus. Vaguely threatening to himself. Even though Diana’s own heartbreak and compassion had brought the goddess of love to tears, Batman didn’t fully trust her. That put nearly half of the Pantheon in the unknown camp.

Threats? Hera.

Allies? Batman counted on Apollo and the rest of Diana’s patrons: Artemis, Hestia, Hermes, Demeter, and Athena.

He didn’t like it.

While he analyzed, Diana spoke. She didn’t step forward, staying nearly flush with him, his left shoulder at her back. She offered her salute, closed fist over her chest, slightly bowing her head while keeping her eyes on them all. “Hail to Zeus, Great Father, and to Hera, Queen of the Heavens. Hail to the Pantheon. You honor me. I come peacefully.”

At her hip, the lasso glowed, showing the truth of her words.

Zeus spread his hands in a welcoming gesture. Despite his thick wavy beard and long hair, an unruly light brown streaked liberally with gray, the King of the Gods appeared younger than Batman expected. His eyes were ice blue, his skin tanned from sun, and on his head rested a golden crown of laurels, much like the one Hestia had given Diana. He wore simple white toga, fastened over one shoulder, without the finery that several of the other gods and goddess draped themselves in. The god king’s muscles bulged; Bruce guessed by his size sitting that he’d be nearly seven feet tall standing.

“My child!” Zeus cried. “Flesh of my flesh! You are most welcome.”

And with this confirmation of her parentage, Diana’s life changed forever.

XXX

Bruce felt Diana suck in a sharp breath, knew she would be reeling with the knowledge that her mother had lied to her, lied to every Amazon. And while he expected her show, he didn’t expect the anger in her tense shoulders and clenched fists.

“My Lord Zeus,” she said, and he heard it in her voice too, “My mother Queen Hippolyta told me a story of my creation-- that she desired a child so badly, she sculpted an infant from clay and begged you to give it life. This, she has always said, was the miracle of my birth.”

She was daring him to discount the myth, and she would make him say it aloud, in front of the entire Pantheon. Batman tensed, readying a batarang and letting one hand hover over the grapple gun at his hip.

“This was the story that had to be told,” Zeus declared. He stood, and every other god on the dais watched his movements. “The story that would keep peace on Themyscira and protect you from the wrath of other Amazons. In this, you became a gift from Olympus, not the evidence of a Queen who would betray one of the first and oldest Amazonian laws.” Regret tugged down his eyebrows and the corner of his lips as he approached Diana. “It had to be so, Diana. Your destiny was to defeat Ares, and so you did. It had to be so.”

Batman watched Diana’s hands clench and unclean in his peripheral vision, keeping his focus on Zeus. The king of the gods continued to take slow, cautions steps toward them. Next to him, Diana vibrated with tension.

“Then tell me, my Lord,” Diana bit the words out, clinging to the edges of her temper with all she had, “was my mother willing?”

Silence descended, broken only by a couple gasps from the divine semi-circle. Zeus’s expressive face turned to stone.

“What are you asking me?” he said, not loudly, but still somehow sounding like breaking thunder. Diana did not flinch.

“I am asking, my Lord Zeus, if you raped my mother.”

From the corner of his eye, Bruce monitored Hera’s reaction; the queen’s eyebrows shot up, and she leaned forward into her seat.

The seconds of silence dragged on unbearably as Zeus and Diana stared each other down. For the first time, Bruce missed having Hermes at their side; the other god was watching the confrontation intently like everyone else, eyes straying to the sparks coming off Diana’s fists. Zeus, jovial as he’d been when Diana arrived, stared back, face unreadable. Diana leaned in, unphased by the god’s advantage in height. Several more charged seconds passed as everyone gathered held their breath.

“No,” he said finally. “Hippolyta was willing.”

Bruce saw Hera sit back on her own throne, crossing her arms. He wondered if which outcome was better or worse for her. At the height of her power, Hera stood for and protected all women; at her lowest, she hunted down all of Zeus’s lovers; the lucky ones would die; the unlucky ones suffered freak eternal punishments.

Diana’s fists relaxed, and the tell-tale glow of the power she’d inherited from Zeus faded from her hands. “You speak the truth,” she said. “Good.” And as she stepped back, the lasso broke contact with Zeus’s body and the glow faded. Bruce almost smirked, feeling proud.

The king of the gods took a step back, frowning at the lasso, then at her. “This is not the introduction I had hoped for, Diana.”

She shrugged, brushing against Batman as she moved out of Zeus’s personal space. “Have I not overcome the tests that the gods lay before me, just as you desired, my lord?”

“I was hoping for a happier meeting, but I am proud to say you have passed every test we laid at your feet.”

“Lies!”

Heads whirled as Aphrodite sprang from her throne. “She failed Athena’s test of wisdom!” the goddess of love screamed. “Her strategy wasn’t enough to subdue the Hound of Hell. This child fell to Cerberus; she should be riding the ferry to the Underworld as we speak, but you interfered!” She pointed a slender finger at Apollo.

The sun god regarded her with boredom, yawning as he leaned back into his throne. The sun was long gone, after all. “She prayed for my help,” Apollo said. “I answered. It is my right. Don’t look to me to help you with this grudge, Aphrodite.”

Quietly, Athena stood too, crossing her arms. Like Zeus, she commanded the attention of the dais. “You dare to question my wisdom?” she demanded.

Aphrodite stomped her foot, and the dais shuddered. “I dare to question all of this!” Even in anger, her rosy lips looked inviting. Her flush warmed her cheeks with flattering color, and her eyes glittered. The pink and gold silk draping her accentuated every curve, and-- Bruce shuddered, wrestling his mind back to focus. This was one of Aphrodite’s powers over mortals, he remembered, brushing against Diana to re-anchor himself. The goddess of love was still shouting.

“--destroyed Ares! What’s to stop her from destroying us all!?”

“Fool!” Athena fired back. “You have watched all but seen nothing!” To the entire dais, the goddess of wisdom said, “Diana could have destroyed Cerberus; she did not. She calmed him, she persuaded she meant him no harm. And she did this at great risk to herself, and even sustained a grievous wound. Even on the brink of death, Diana knew exactly whose help she needed. She is wise; that wisdom governs how she uses the gifts we gave her. Her power is tempered with compassion. Diana would rather suffer harm herself than cause harm unnecessarily to another. And I think we all know that attempting an Olympic coup is a completely unnecessary use of Diana’s time and strength.” She sat, crossing her arms. “She has better things to do than meddle with the tedious affairs of forgotten gods. Ares brought his fate upon himself.”

Murmured agreement seemed to ripple around the semi-circle, leaving only Aphrodite and Hera still frowning. The rest either looked bored or pleased. Zeus himself looked thoughtful, scratching his beard as his attention shifted between the Pantheon and Diana herself.

Speaking of Diana... subtly, Bruce observed her, grateful for the white lenses that would hide his gaze. Though Zeus’s news had been a bomb, instead of looking distressed, Diana’s expression gave nothing away. It was a neutral, blank, aloof expression that he felt overly familiar with, having seen its likeness in the mirror for the past several decades.

“What say you, daughter?” Zeus prompted, voice thundering and echoing, breaking all chatter.

“I have passed Lady Aphrodite’s test, by her own admission. I have passed Lady Athena’s by hers. If there is anything I may yet do to honor the gods and prove my devotion, speak. Allow me to do it. Otherwise, I desire to go back home to continue my mission in Patriarch’s World.”

“Your honor is seen by us all!” Zeus boomed. Lighting struck a tree somewhere down the mountain, which trembled with his enthusiasm. “No one could challenge it.”

But, from behind the king of the gods, a voice broke on the breeze, quiet but strong.

“I challenge it,” said Hera, Queen of Heaven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short because we're gearing up for the end, friends. 
> 
> -rosa


	11. Hera

"What is the meaning of this, wife?!" Zeus boomed. More lightning strikes rained from the sky, bolstered by cracking thunder, wrought by his agitation and anger.

Hera stood, the hem of her green gown glittering as she moved. Diana didn't flinch as the queen approached; Bruce knew Diana was trying to force neutrality into her features, but he could still make out the disappointment in her eyes.

The rest of the Pantheon watched Hera warily, with nearly as much attention as they had Zeus. Zeus merely crossed his arms, glaring at his wife. Hera ignored him. She planted herself before Diana, then pivoted so that she could see both Wonder Woman and the Pantheon.

"I challenge Diana's honor," Hera said. The wind carried her quiet voice to everyone, making it loud and strong. "It is my right to test it. She has called on me since she first learned to speak."

Diana stepped forward, alarming Bruce but he stayed still, watching everything. He would be of no use to her if he made a misstep and invited one of the Olympians to kill him.

Zeus shouted out a protest, but a flash to his left distracted Bruce from hearing it.

"Peace, Bruce Wayne," came a voice in ear. "My vow to protect you still stands, even in this place. Diana is no longer a traveler. She belongs here. I cannot interfere."

Bruce didn't bother turning his head; Hermes had already flown back to his throne, leaning forward and watching Hera and Diana as if nothing had passed.

"Don't strain yourself," Bruce muttered. Hermes smirked.

"Great Hera, Queen of Heaven," Diana was saying. "I have worshipped you all my life; if I may regain your favor with honor, I will."

Zeus crossed his arms, unhappiness tugging down his eyebrows. Electricity crackled from his fingers. He opened his mouth, but Hera shot him a glare. "You will not interfere, Lord King!" she cried. "For once in this eternity, I will have my right!"

Then Hera lifted her arms and with each sweeping gesture, she bent the very clouds to her will, surrounding the dais with the grey cottony air until the stars and moon were hidden. Artemis, herself glowing with moonlight, cried out a protest, but Hera flicked her wrist and snapped Artemis's lips shut. The moon goddess glared but remain seated when Apollo put a hand on her arm. The light she emitted was enough to cast a pale and eerie glow across the dais.

Hera spread her arms wide, reveling in her power, surrounding the mountain top with a thick wall of clouds. "Your belief, child," she cried, "is sweeter than any I have felt. I am the Queen of Heaven once more." And with a dramatic gesture, she cast light onto the clouds until pictures danced on them. Images coalesced as the goddess narrated, until they looked real enough to touch.

"My dear son," Hera said, her voice echoing through the clouds and shaking the mountain top. "has fallen." Bruce watched as image of Diana, flying in the sky and crackling with electricity, crossed her arms into the familiar pose, and unleashed lightning into Ares. He turned, watching images of Ares in 360 degrees dances on the clouds- Ares stalking Diana; Ares coaxing Ludendorf and Dr. Poison further into war; Ares wrapped up in a passionate kiss with Aphrodite as a scowling Hephaestus looked on in devastated fury. Even as they watched, the two Olympians reacted. Aphrodite cried out in grief, and Hephaestus swung his hammer and let it crash into the ground. The mountain shook enough for Bruce to swing out his arms to catch his balance.

Bruce glance at Diana; she spared minimal attention to the show, watching Hera carefully. "Good," he murmured. "Don't take your eyes off of her." He was behind her, so he couldn't see her tight smile, only her slight nod.

Hera drew the light back into herself and the clouds went blank again. "But now, it is time. A time of reckoning!" she cried, and Diana tensed. "Reckoning for all of us," she continued, and then cast the light back onto the clouds. Now, instead of Ares, moving images of Diana covered the clouds. Diana charging across No-Man's land; Diana defeating Antiope; Diana battling Doomsday; and, Bruce noted, so many images from stories she hadn't told. He saw her battling Nazis, in her uniform and in street clothes; rescuing children from fires; testing criminals with the lasso of truth.

And finally, in dramatic grandeur, footage of Diana passing every test of her patrons. Diana strolling past the Styx without looking back; Diana coaxing the Silver Stag to her side; Diana falling to her knees before the ghost of Steve Trevor, hands gripping the glowing lasso she'd draped overself like a necklace. Diana hugging Menalippe, then watching her vanish through the chaste trees. Diana lassoing Cerberus, then leaping on his back to subdue him.

"The time is now, Olympians, for a new beginning! My son betrayed us all; it is time to replace him!" Hera shouted. "And Diana," the queen said, sweeping all the light from the clouds until they haloed the one empty throne. Ares's helmet and spear clattered to the floor with a gust of wind from Hera's hand. "Diana, the time is come for you to come home."

Diana, while focused on Hera, had still turned several times to watch the images around her, so Bruce could see the suspicion fade to confusion and the confusion melt into awe. He felt his stomach drop in dread as Hera approached Diana. A flick of her wrist, and a thick crown of chaste blooms rested in her hands, waiting. All breath on the dais paused in suspense.

"My queen," Diana murmured, touching the crown of flowers. "Have I won you over at last?"

Hera smiled. "I may have little love for Hippolyta, but I am the goddess of all women. I have great love for a daughter who would stare down the King of the Gods himself to defend her mother's honor. Now," she lifted the crown of blooms high over Diana's head, "I, Hera, Queen of the Gods, offer you this crown and my son's throne. Let us trade War for Truth. Diana, will you join us?"

When shouts, cheers, and thunder broke out around her, Hera raised her hands, and the clouds around them swirled into hurricane force winds. "Silence!" she ordered.

There was silence.

"What say you, Diana of Themyscira?""

Diana stared at the crown, her heart pounding in her ears. Then, she glanced up, let her gaze sweep over the dais, over the face of each god, each goddess. She saw faces of support- Athena, flush with pride. Demeter's supportive smile, Hestia's delicate tears and little wave; Artemis's fierce approval, Hermes's delight, and Apollo's knowing look. Even some surprises, like the satisfied expression of Poseidon and the thunderous applause of Hephaestus. Dionysus, to no one's surprise, had passed out. Only Aphrodite appeared distressed, her eyes on the skies, as if she could catch a glimpse of Ares there once more.

Finally, Diana looked at Zeus. He'd been glaring at his wife, but his look softened when he caught her gaze. She felt, suddenly, aware of how much good she could do, with a seat on the Olympian dais as the goddess of truth. And she realized, suddenly and entirely, that she had a father. And a step-mother. Zeus and Hera. Another home-a new home when her beloved Themyscira was lost to her, maybe forever.

But the sound of a boot scuffing the ground pulled Diana from her awe. She looked at Batman, cowl and all, taking in his crossed arms and the impatient set of his mouth.

"Chop-chop, Princess," he said.

Diana grinned. She sucked in a deep breath, and turned back to Hera. She bowed low. When she straightened, she turned so she could see all of the Olympians.

"My lady, Hera," Diana began, and this time it was her voice that echoed across the skies. "Queen of Heaven. You do me a great honor. All of you do. But I am afraid I must decline." When several gasps erupted, she lifted her hand for quiet and continued. "My mission is not yet done. I must continue to protect Man's world, to bring peace, to fight for justice, and uphold truth, and I must do it among them. I cannot stay here with you, my ladies, my lords. I must return."

Hera's face was difficult to read in that moment, even to Bruce's practiced eye; he might have guessed pride or sadness, or a mixture of both.

"Then you have passed my test, Diana. My blessing is," and she smiled here, "and has always been yours. I am goddess of fidelity; you have proven yourself faithful."

Bruce thought it was done then.

But Hera's face screwed up in sudden rage, and the clouds around them began to swirl into a funnel. She lifted her hands high as the tornado formed and screamed, "But you! My husband, my king! You have proven yourself unfaithful time and time again! And now, you will pay!"

And with that, Hera let loose her tornado and sent it crashing into Zeus.

XXX

Diana dove away as Zeus's retaliatory lighting shot back at them, taking Bruce to the ground with her. "The prophecy!" she gasped into his ear as she shielded him from stray lightning bolts. "I will only be well if I come to Olympus, the oracle said... Apollo healed me. He was the only one that could."

"And Zeus would reckon with that which is his," Batman finished for her, pushing himself to his feet. He hunched behind her, watching the stray bolt she'd caught dance in her bracers. Somewhere, his mind was analyzing this and making notes. "But not with you."

"Because I do not belong to Zeus. I belong to myself," Diana said with conviction. "It is Hera who brings the reckoning!"

"And how," Batman said, his eyes on the battle that was breaking out in earnest before their eyes. But inside, just for a moment, a calm warmth filled him the slow spread of affection and pride.

Diana didn't reach for her shield or sword; she continued to block the stray lightning bolts with her bracers, collecting their power. Bruce, ever comfortable with his own limits and strengths, remained behind Diana and analyzed what he saw.

Zeus and Hera were the main combatants; the king, roaring his outrage, hurled bolt after bolt with his wife, but Hera was impossibly fast, flying on the winds to avoid him and harassing him with a barrage of windstorms and streams of blinding rain. Queen of the Heavens indeed.

Elsewhere on the dais, other battles broke out as rivals aired their grievances. Artemis leapt into the air and fired her lethal bow at Aphrodite, who flipped like a gymnast out of its path. Athena drew her sword with a battle cry and swung it at Poseidon, who used his trident to block her, letting loose a roar like the waves. Dionysus staggered away from the fray, laughing wildly, trailed by a fretting Hestia and Demeter. Apollo and Hephaestus stayed on their thrones, watching the battle with detached interest. Both drew coins and lay them on the arms of their throne, shouting their bets over the screams, thunder, and clanging of weapons.

And Hermes appeared beside them. "My vow stands," he announced. "Bruce Wayne, I could take you from this place in an instant should you desire it. And if you do not, I offer my protection."

Batman nodded, thankful to have that at least. Both he and Diana would be able to concentrate better knowing that Hermes was looking out for him. Normally, he might bristle at all these people wanting to protect him when he was quite used to protecting himself, thank you very much, but in enemy territory, he was not above accepting help as part of good strategy.

"I'll stick around for now," Batman said. "So thanks. Diana."

She glanced over her shoulder, still holding the lighting in her bracers, not wanting to turn around and risk hurting him.

"What do you want to do?"

She turned back to watching the gods and goddesses battle each other, considering her options. "On the one hand," she said, loudly so he could hear, "my mission here is complete. I have passed the tests of my patrons and learned the truth of my birth. I could leave them settle things themselves."

Bruce was already rolling his eyes in anticipation of her decision. "Seems reasonable," he said, meaning it. The Olympians were all but trapped behind the veil of human unbelief that kept them in their dimension, so why not let them go at each other and tire themselves out, in his humble opinion. But... "But I don't think the oracle had that in mind."

Diana, on the other hand, tossed him a knowing smirk. He sighed. "But here's how I see it. If one wants to stop a asteroid, you call Superman." They both sobered briefly, remembering him. "If one wants to solve an impossible mystery, call Batman." He mostly managed not to smirk at his epithet.

"You've certainly helped me solve the oracle and these tests," she confirmed. She caught another stray lightning bolt in her bracers. Bruce didn't flinch, but Hermes's was starting to gawk at her.

Batman waved away her praise, even though she couldn't see the gesture, even though it was true. "And if you need to end a war, call Wonder Woman," Bruce finished.

"What a name they gave me!" Diana cried. "Perhaps I shall live up to it today." Then, with a fierce scream of battle, she leapt into the air, broke the X of her arms, and sent lightning crashing into the ground before each of the combatants, including Zeus himself, startling them all. The mountain shook under the weight of her power.

"My ladies, my lords! This is not the way!"

Athena stopped immediately, stepping away from Poseidon. "Later, Uncle," she promised, a warrior's gleam in her eyes. "Watch my champion work." Poseidon bared his teeth at her in an answering grin, and they turned to watch.

Zeus and Hera's battle had only paused; their fight raged on above the mountain, high in the swirling clouds, bursting with lightning bolts. Diana dropped to the ground before Artemis and Aphrodite, bending her knees to ease the impact. She reached for both of their hands.

"Sisters!" Diana cried. "Please. Peace." She took the lasso from her hip, held out to each of them. "Please. Touch the golden perfect."

Artemis hissed at Aphrodite, a last wild snarl, then grabbed the lasso without hesitation. As it glowed, the virgin goddess of the hunt closed her eyes.

Aphrodite looked at Diana, suspicion in her eyes. Her hands stayed at her side. "I will not rescind my blessing, but I don't know if I can forgive you for Ares," she told Diana.

Diana nodded, eyes solemn. "That is your choice and your right, my lady. But perhaps there may be understanding between us. Please."

Aphrodite stared for a long moment, then curled her long fingers around the lasso. Golden light blinded the dais.

The lasso revealed the truth, and Diana guided its power. She showed Aphrodite the truth of her regret over Ares's fate and pulled forward Aphrodite's deeply buried guilt over betraying her husband Hephaestus again and again. And beneath the anger and the hurt, Diana revealed Aphrodite's well of pride and affection for Diana's beauty and divine love.

Diana then directed the lasso's power toward the goddesses, revealing the truth of their animosity. Artemis, though steadfast in her quest for chastity and her devotion to the wild, deeply envied Aphrodite's beauty and grace; Aphrodite, meanwhile, hid how deeply she longed for Artemis's independence, as she felt shackled to Hephaestus and even Ares, to an extent. She wondered, deep within the vulnerable places of herself, if she was nothing more than a body to be owned and coveted by men. Diana gently revealed it all, showing them the truth. And when the light faded, the two women stared at each other before dropping the lasso to embrace and wipe away each other's tears.

"Wow," Hermes breathed next to Batman. "It's been an age since I've seen them at peace."

Hephaestus, looking stunned, tossed Apollo some of the his coins.

"Sucker bet," Batman said. "He's the god of foresight, after all."

"And here I thought you'd say that because of your steadfast faith in Diana," Hermes drawled.

"She doesn't need my- shit."

"What?" Hermes turned to follow Batman's gaze; his jaw dropped.

Diana, lasso swinging, shot into the air and vanished into the swirling maelstrom above them.

"Shit," Hermes said.

"Get us up there!" Batman ordered.

"Bats do fly, you know," Hermes mused and placed his winged helm on top of Batman's head and buckled it. He floated up on his winged sandals, gesturing to Batman to follow him. When nothing happened, Hermes flew back down. "Well, come on!"

Batman stared at him. "How?!" he demanded. God, he hated magic. Give him the Javelin or the Batwing, even a jetpack, but a magic helmet...

Hermes stared back, then answered in the tone one would use with a small, confused child. "What else, Bruce Wayne? Belief!"

"What kind of Peter Pan bullshit..."

But Hermes turned and darted off into the skies after Diana, leaving Batman fuming on the ground.

"Fucking magic," he muttered, touching the helmet. Then, he heard Diana scream and found himself zooming into the air after Hermes, cursing the entire way.

Beneath them, Apollo grumbled and tossed a handful of coins to Hephaestus. Artemis, like any proper sister, laughed.

XXX

Diana rolled in the air, wincing as she grabbed her shield. Since Hera's swirl of thick clouds and blinding rain rendered her mostly blind, a stray lightning bolt had caught her on the left shoulder. The searing pain had shocked her enough to scream. Zeus's thunderbolt had left behind a strangely beautiful burn that sent needles of fire to her brain as she hefted her shield. Nothing for it, she decided; that was her shield arm, and she needed the right free for her sword or lasso. She curled her body and tucked herself behind the shield, floating.

"Think, Diana, think," she murmured to herself. Screaming for them was almost pointless in the midst of these deafening winds, and she'd tried; now she couldn't even hear their shouts anymore. And she couldn't see them to wrap them in the lasso. Diana wasn't entirely sure if it would hold up against an unwilling Olympian, but until she could see, she couldn't even try.

"Diana!"

Still huddled behind her shield, she peaked over her shoulder to see Hermes flying towards her, missing his helmet.

"Hermes!" she cried. "But where is Batman?! You were to protect him!"

Hermes shamelessly huddled behind her, keeping an eye out for divine thunderbolts. "Don't worry," he shouted into her ear. "He is right-"

"Diana!"

"-behind me. Hah!"

And Diana could only gawk as the Dark Knight, wearing Hermes's winged helm on top of his cowl, flew up to float beside them. She adjusted in the air so that she was blocking them both with her shield and body, mouth agape.

"Bruce! You're flying!"

"I don't want to talk about it," he growled, glaring at her. "Now what's the plan?!"

With supreme effort, Diana managed not to laugh. "I can't see Zeus or Hera to use the lasso and they can't hear me, or else are ignoring me!"

Bruce's gaze zeroed in on the dramatic web of blisters on Diana's left shoulder; he recognized the Lichtenberg figure- a lightning burn. "It must have just grazed you," he breathed. "Not enough to cause cardiac arrest, which seems highly possibly considering it's divine lightning."

"Bruce!"

"Right. No visibility. I can help." He tapped the side of his cowl, and the lenses turned white, blinking as data crossed the tiny screens. He pointed with both hands, each in a different direction. His fingers moved as he traced Zeus and Hera's movements. Suddenly, he screamed, "Duck!"

Diana raised her shield, grunting as she it took the impact of another bolt of lightning. Defying every law of physics and much to Bruce's annoyance, it bounced off her shield in the opposite direction. A masculine roar sounded from the clouds.

"Merciful Athena," Diana swore. "I need to see. Cover me," she said. Batman palmed his explosive batarangs, monitoring their surroundings and watching her replace her sword on her back, and lock her bracers in an X formation. He could feel the sheer power and energy gathering her in her arms, felt it rushing into her. More and more and more, until she began to tremble. Then, with her war cry, she broke the X and released a wave of magical and physical energy that cleared the sky, neutralizing clouds and repelling lightning bolts alike. Bruce might have cursed the sheer illogicality of it all if Diana hadn't paled in exertion.

Besides, there in the clear night sky, were Zeus and Hera.

"Father!" Diana panted, "Great Father, forgive me." And with a blurred swing of her arm, she snapped the lasso, trapping his arms against his sides, and yanked tight. Blinded by his rage, the king of the gods howled, grabbing the lasso with one hand and sending lighting through it. Diana screamed as the scent of burning flesh filled the skies, but she did not let go. "Peace, Father!" she screamed. And the lasso's compulsion, even what little affected him, weakened the electricity shooting into her hands just enough for her to think.

"Queen Mother!" Diana cried, looking for Hera.

The queen watched as if frozen, eyes wide. She blinked, then focused on Diana.

"Grab the other end!" Diana shouted, and she threw the other end of the lasso toward Hera, who caught it. After a moment's hesitation, the queen looped the golden perfect around her own wrist.

With a hoarse, guttural noise from deep in her chest, Diana sent her power, everything that she had, into the lasso and poured it all into the King and Queen of the Gods, pulling them both towards the truth with all her strength. The lasso glowed until the skies of Olympus were nearly bright as day.

A sudden darkness bled into Diana's eyes.

Silence.

XXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Credit to the immeasurable Gail Simone for the quote about when you call Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. Gail Simone's volume of Wonder Woman comics call "The Circle" were the first place I fell in love with Diana of Themyscira. If you've never read them, DO THAT. 
> 
> ***One more chapter to go, friends, and my first multi-chapter Wonderbat story will be complete. Please leave comments! You are all such an encouragement to me. Thank you, thank you. 
> 
> -rosa


	12. Coming Home

Diana was aware of pain, somewhere in the back of her mind. The lasso's light blinded her at the first attempt to open her eyes, so she slammed them shut again. The golden perfect was cutting into her burned hands, but she didn't feel it, only knew that she should, considering how tightly she was holding on.

The light warming the outside of her eyelids began to fade, so she dared to open them again. Far in the distance stretched a land of rolling hills and glittering water under a golden sun. A semi-circle of mountains dusted with snow surrounded the paradise, wrapping around it and joined together by a massive golden gate.

"You have given too much, child," Hera said, holding the small loop of the golden lasso in her hand. She stepped closer to Diana until their shoulders touched, then reached for her hand. The lasso rested between their entwined fingers, glowing softly now.

On Diana's right, Zeus stepped out of the loop she'd trapped him in. Diana wondered if she should stop him, but it didn't seem important now. He wrapped a loop around his hand, and held on.

"Diana," he said, dropping his other arm over her shoulders. "My daughter. Your mortal is terrifying the rest of the pantheon right now."

Diana smiled, amused. Hera's hand was warm and soft in her own; Zeus's arm resting on her shoulder was a comforting weight. All three of them entwined in the lasso of truth where Diana's own magic pulsed... And she remembered her mission.

"Great Father. Queen Mother. Is this a dream?"

The lasso compelled truth, but Zeus was king of the gods. He gave only half. "Of a kind," he said, eying the heavenly land in the distance.

"Then, please, take my hand," Diana quietly urged, opening her free hand to him; the lasso rested there, waiting. "I give it to you as a gesture of friendship and love, and of faith freely given. I give you my hand and welcome you into my *dream."

With an indulgent look, the King of the gods took his daughter's hand into his own.

"It's my dream!" Diana declared with a fierce grin. And her power fed the golden perfect, wrapping the three of them. And then, Diana stepped back, forcing the king and queen to face each other. She still gripped their hands.

"Let me show you the truth," she whispered, and it flooded them. Hera's eyes filled as her grief, hurt, and anger at Zeus' centuries of philandering came to the surface. Zeus paled, and his gnawing insecurity and shame filled their minds. Diana broke down mental barriers until their consciousnesses joined entirely and memories began to flood them.

Zeus, secretly courting Hera and feeling heartbroken when she spurned his advances. Hera's terrified thrill as she resisted, hoping for an honorable marriage. Zeus watching Hera tend to her gardens, feeding the birds... Zeus transforming himself into a rain-soaked cuckoo, and then, Hera's delight in seeing the bird and caring for him, letting him warm and dry in the shelter of her breast... knowing it was Zeus and thrilling when he transformed back into herself and seduced her... the slow heartbreak as she realized he was not faithful, and Zeus's shame and sadness as she spiraled away from the tender girl he'd loved into a vindictive woman who ruthlessly hunted down his lovers and children to punish them.

Memories of the affection from long ago, the angry love-making, the desperation that chilled into resignation... it all poured from the lasso into the rulers of the Pantheon. Diana let her tears fall openly as she guided them to the truth.

"I only wanted to be enough," Hera whispered, wiping a tear away with the tip of her finger.

"I knew I never could be," was Zeus's hoarse reply. And with his free hand, he reached for his wife. She hesitated, but Diana's magic reminded her that she was the goddess of marriage and her eternal longing had always been for this moment.

Hera slipped her hand into her husband's.

"Forgive me," Zeus whispered, kissing her hand. A tear landed on her knuckles.

"I will try," Hera said, for she was bound to tell the truth.

For the first time in many centuries, the King and Queen of the Olympians leaned into each other, embracing as well as they could without letting go of Diana's hands. For that one moment, hope rested between them.

Then, the two were suddenly overwhelmed as Diana's emotions flooded into them. The Amazonian princess showed them her pride and gratitude at their reunion, then bared the truth of her deep loneliness, her longing for Themyscira, the deep sadness she'd felt in the face of Hera's wrath, her cautious desire to please Zeus, her memories of the oracle's prophecy, her love for Bruce, her heart's hope that the Olympians could be like family to her. Then, lastly, Diana revealed the secret heavy fear sitting in her gut, the one that kept her rolling and awake at night, the one that whispered in her ears that she would never be able to fill the gap left by Superman's death. She would fail. Earth would fall. Diana showed them everything.

"My child," Hera breathed, squeezing Diana's hand. She released Zeus and pulled Diana into a tender embrace. Zeus still held his daughter's hand, and brought it to the side of his face, shuddering as the weight of her emotions settled on him.

"Diana," he murmured to her, like the slow rumbling of far away thunder. "I didn't know; I was so proud, so eager to show you off and make them all revel in your glory. I was selfish."

"You never fell out of my favor, child," Hera promised, "My anger was directed at your father, my jealousy directed at your mother. All along I planned my revenge, and you were the one who suffered. I was cruel."

Diana let loose a long sigh, feeling the weight of her secret fears and hopes lift from her shoulders. A tired peace suffused her body, and the light of the lasso gently faded. Silently, she looped it back and settled it on her hip once more.

"Thank you," she said finally, "for seeing my truth. And the truth inside each other."

Zeus and Hera still held hands, regarding each other.

"Let there be peace between you," Diana urged. "At least for a time. I have a different war to prepare for."

Zeus nodded, letting his eyes drift back to the land of paradise ahead of them, where life bloomed behind the golden gate. The sounds of rushing water and laughter and birdsong just barely whispered against their ears. Zeus shifted so he blocked Diana's view of it, even gently turned her the other direction. She looked up at him, the question in her eyes.

"It is not yet your time, my daughter. The Elysian Fields will welcome you another day."

Diana's mouth opened, and she tried to peer around Zeus, but he was immovable.

"Even now," Hera chided, "Apollo tends your body while your mortal shouts at him and anyone else who dares come close. We will send you back safely; these lands will welcome you when it is time."

Diana shifted her gaze to Hera, a thousand questions sitting in a lump at the back of her throat. "Antiope and Steve," she breathed. "Are they happy?"

Hera smiled. "They will be happier when we take you from here. Do not look back, daughter of my heart. Have faith. Make peace in the human world; save some for yourself. We will help you when we can. All of us." Zeus hummed in agreement.

Diana closed her eyes. She breathed.

"Your belief has given us the tiniest return of our divine power," Zeus said, glancing at Hera. She nodded slowly.

"Yes. Together, we will spend it by granting you a small wish."

Diana's head jerked up and she did not even have to think before the answer burst from her lips. "My mother... my home. May I return?"

The king and queen shared a sad glance, something silent passing between them.

Hera spoke, pulling Diana into a final embrace. "A small gift for you," she whispered, kissing her cheek. Zeus embraced them both and said, "Yes. There is power in dreaming."

A gentle white light covered everything. When it faded, Diana found herself in a familiar room, with gentle gold arches and the barest hint of sunrise through the silk drapes. There, in the canopied bed, Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, curled on her side in sleep.

"Mother!" Diana's awe made her whisper loud, and Hippolyta jerked upright, pulling a knife from under her pillow. The queen's jaw dropped open.

"Diana?" The knife clattered to the stone floor. Hippolyta stood slowly, blinking a few times. "Diana, you are glowing. I can nearly see through you. Is this... Is this a dream?"

Diana looked down, saw that her arms were translucent, realized that she couldn't feel her feet on the floor or the air on her skin. She smiled sadly. "Of course, Mother," she said. "But that does not make it any less real."

Hippolyta covered the distance to her in a blink, reaching for Diana's hands. Diana tried to offer them, curling her glowing fingers around them.

"I can almost feel you, my sun and stars," Hippolyta whispered through her tears. "If it was my dream, I'd be able to take you in my arms again."

"Then perhaps it is my dream, Mother, because if I was truly here, I might not be able to leave again." They embraced, as best they could. Diana felt a tingle of warmth where her mother's skin would have touched her own.

"Are you well?" Hippolyta demanded after she pulled back. "I'll be very angry if you are a spectre sent to haunt me, especially when Menalippe miraculously returned and told tales of your might."

Diana laughed. "Dear Menalippe! How glad I am to hear news of my beloved Aunt. Yes, I am well, but I am led to believe that it was a near thing." She sobered, rushing into the rest so the queen could ask no questions. "Mother. After Menalippe left me, I met Zeus. I met the entire Pantheon. They live, all of them. Ares is trapped in Tartarus, but the rest are mostly without power in the Olympic realm. Tell all my sisters, Mother, that the gods live. Tell them to pray to Hestia again, and one day, perhaps I may be able to return home."

"I vow it will be so!" Hippolyta promised. Then, the color drained from her face, matching the white gown draped over her skin. Realization hit the queen of the Amazons like a kick in the gut. "Diana," she breathed. "You met Zeus."

Solemnly, her daughter nodded. "I know the truth, my queen. Perhaps one day you can tell me the entire story of my birth. But I do not want our last words for another one hundred years or more to be spoken in anger."

"Ah, Diana." Hippolyta tried her best to lay her hand on Diana's cheek. "Perhaps I was the one who did not deserve you."

Diana felt a tug in her mind, and she knew time was running out. "Mother!" she said urgently. "I love you. Never doubt it. Our time runs short, but I bring a warning too- something else is coming! My allies and I, we fear for an invasion. Be on your guard."

Hippolyta gave the traditional salute to her daughter, placing a fist over her heart and bowing low. "We will be ready," the queen said. "Keep an eye to the old warning fire in the shrine the men built for us, years ago."

"The fire has not been lit in centuries. They will not know what it means."

"You'll know," Hippolyta replied. She tried to kiss her daughter's forehead. "I love you."

Diana faded away, leaving only the light of dawn in the Queen's chambers. Hippolyta stood still, dreading to lose the moment but hearing the stirring of the Amazons in the palace and the waking birds outside.

"Take care, my sun and stars," she whispered. From behind her, fabric rustled. Menalippe sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"What is it, Hippolyta? Come back to bed, the hour is ungodly."

Hippolyta laughed. "No, my dear. Quite the opposite." The Queen of the Amazons burrowed back into the blankets, closing her eyes as Menalippe's arms settled around her. She wondered what Menalippe had learned among the gods. The woman had appeared in thin air in the middle of training, shouting news of Diana through her tears. And that night, she'd brazenly seduced Hippolyta with meticulous fervor. Did she know, Hippolyta wondered, about the truth of Diana's birth?

The general's eyes, now sporting the tiny wrinkles she'd earned in Man's World, popped back open and narrowed at Hippolyta. "I can practically hear you thinking over there, your grace." With a long-suffering sigh, Menalippe let her hand wander up to Hippolyta's breast, teasing and tender. "Allow me to distract you."

The queen granted this request with magnanimity.

XXX

Diana woke to the feel of sunlight on her face. The last vestiges of her Themysciran dream slipped away as she stretched her body and then let it flop back into the bed. Egyptian cotton sheets caressed her skin; from outside, she could make out the sound of a lawnmower and the distant hum of passing cars.

She opened her eyes and took in her surroundings, lips parting in surprise. She was lying in a king-size mahogany bed draped in cream and gold linens. The walls of the suite, painted a pale blue, displayed authentic art and artifacts from ancient Greece; she recognized her own uniform, lasso, sword,and shield resting on custom mounts, and a painted vase displayed on an end table that looked suspiciously Themysciran. A balcony sat to her left, flirting with branches of nearby trees; the a hint of sparkle from what appeared to be a massive bathroom. The closed doors of what must be a room-sized walk-in closet.

Diana sniffed, suddenly aware that she smelled the sharp and sweet smell of incense, breathing it in with a deep pleasure. But from where? A glance around found that there, in the corner of the room where the sunlight made it sparkle, a shrine had been built into the wall.

She stood, sliding into the sumptuous robe and slippers that rested at the end of the bed, walked over to inspect it. Her breath caught; it was a shrine to Hestia, goddess of home. A soft pink candle danced at the base of a golden sculpture of a smiling Hestia, holding a bowl over her head. In the bowl, incense burned over charcoal. And there, Diana saw, mounted over the sculpture, was the golden laurel crown Hestia had given her. The same one that Bruce had gently taken from her hair the night they'd made love in Hestia's gardens. She grinned; of course he'd stolen it. Probably proof to remind himself that the entire thing had actually happened!

As reality started to break through her sleepy haze, Diana realized she had to be at Wayne Manor. But.. this room...

"I am jealous," came a voice behind her. Diana whirled, then dropped to her knees. In the chez lounge next to the bed, Pallas Athena was stretched out and lounging, armor, red-plumed helmet, and all. She shimmered in that surreal way that gave away her divinity. "Your mortal didn't build a shrine to me," Athena said, a smile softening the words.

Bruce, Diana realized. Bruce did all of this. She wrestled her mind back to present before it could melt into a puddle of mush.

"My lady Athena," Diana ventured, "my entire life is tribute to your gifts."

Athena's laughter was not musical but guttural and free. "Of course it is! At ease, Diana. You've come back from near death after all, from the very gates of Elysian. Nearly gave away all that tribute to stop Zeus and Hera from destroying each other. Apollo is insufferably proud of himself for single-handedly bringing you back, as he tells it. My father tells it differently. And your mortal did something with some machines and then pounded on your chest. That part seemed important too. All of them have been watching over you."

Diana eased back under the covers and sad up in the bed, propping up pillows to support her back. "I am grateful to everyone who had a hand in helping me to return to life. I have many battles left to fight."

Athena grinned, showing her teeth. "Yes you do. I heard you call on me when you were up in Hera's storm; I gave you what power I could."

Diana relaxed her neck, letting her head rest against the headboard. "Yes, I remember... that explains how I was able to clear the skies and draw so much magic from the lasso."

"I helped some, yes, but Diana, much of that power and magic is your own," Athena swung her legs around to rest her feet on the floor, leaning forward intently. "You must be confident in your own strength and skills. If anything, I hope your journey to Olympus helps you to see yourself more clearly. You are worthy. You can be champion of this world, in the same way you are a champion of Olympus and Themyscira. You can be home here. A warrior needs a place to rest, to belong, people to fight for. You could have it all."

Both of them looked at the shrine to Hestia in the corner.

"May it be as you say," Diana said. Athena nodded, then vanished. Diana closed her eyes, praying earnestly to Hestia to bless this place and everyone in it. That's how Alfred found her.

The butler knocked quietly, pushing a silver cart with his other hand. "Your royal highness?"

Diana opened her eyes and sat up, genuinely pleased to see him. "Alfred!" she cried. "Yes, come in."

"Good morning, Your Highness!" Unusual enthusiasm emanated from the butler as he rolled the cart with the tea things into the room. "I heard you speaking to whichever mythical guest it was this time, and I had to see that you were awake with my own eyes. It does an old man's heart good to see you well!" He began to pour tea, adding sugar as she preferred. "Shall we go through the usual? Where are you, what happened, so on, so forth?" As he spoke, he laid a tray over her lap and offered her a cup and saucer.

"Certainly," she agreed. She accepted a plate of fruit and cheese and sipped her tea. And for the first time, she noticed the scars. Her hands, front and back, forearms, and her entire left bicep and shoulder wore the intricate patterned scar left behind by Zeus's lightning. She was so arrested by the sight, she almost missed Alfred's recitation. She pulled herself back into the present.

"Well, how shall I condense it... Master Bruce brought you in on the Javelin; at that point Dr. Leslie Thompkins and I were waiting with all manner of medical equipment on standby since he'd called and raised the alarm for us to prepare for your arrival. In his telling, you were in the midst of your battle and collapsed. Once Master Bruce caught you out of the sky, he restarted your heart. Despite all of the fuss, once you arrived here, you appeared completely stable. Dr. Thompkins tended your burns and made you comfortable. We let you sleep and monitored you." He cleared his throat, and the exhaustion crept into his eyes. He rubbed them. "It's been nearly a week, my dear. Nearly 9am on the sixth day since he brought you home. And a bloody long week, if you'll excuse me, Your Highness. Magical comas are unsettling to say the least. You appeared completely stable, yet you did not wake."

"Oh Alfred. What an ordeal. Thank you for your care, but please, sit now. Be at peace."

Surprising her, he acquiesced, breathing a thank you. The butler settled onto the edge of the chez lounge, back straight.

One sits if royalty requests one to sit, Alfred thought to himself. Especially when they've just returned from the edge of the grave. After a beat of silence, Alfred noticed her preoccupation with the burns on her hands. "The burns themselves healed at near your normal rate, according to Master Bruce's estimation. But the scars have remained. I'm sorry."

Diana absently waved away his condolences, nibbling on an apple slice she'd painted with goat cheese. "Do not worry, Alfred. These will fade too." The scar from Artemis's arrow was mostly gone already, she noted. "I do not have the luxury of scars. If I did, perhaps the reminders would lead me to be more cautious."

Alfred gave her a small smile, as he knew she wanted. "Scars don't always breed caution," he scoffed, thinking of his surrogate son. "In any case, as I was saying, both Leslie and myself have been monitoring you throughout the week, along with some of your legendary visitors. I'm happy to report that you appear to be completely recovered."

Diana laughed. "Goodness, Alfred. When do you sleep?"

He put his nose in the air and stood, eyes twinkling as he topped off her cup and began to tidy the tea things. "Don't you worry about that, miss; a butler must maintain some mysteries."

From somewhere on the lower level of the Manor, a door slammed. Footsteps pounded fast, getting louder as they came up the steps. Alfred's eyebrows shot up, mischief lighting his face and taking ten years from his eyes. "If you'll please excuse me, Your Highness. Do ring if you need anything at all."

Alfred barely made it through the doorway with the cart before Bruce came sprinting around the corner, neatly hopping to dodge the cart and his butler to land just inside Diana's room. The two men locked eyes for a moment, and something passed between them that Diana did not understand yet found extremely funny. She pretended to dab her lips with a linen napkin to hide her amusement.

"Master Bruce." Alfred's tone implied censure but it was clear he was smiling around the words. "Do try to maintain some decorum." And with that, Alfred pushed his cart out like nothing strange had happened and vanished around the hall.

Bruce shut Diana's door, then locked it, sending her eyebrows and her pulse shooting up. He turned to stare at her, looking rumpled in a black t shirt and grey sweats. Silence stretched a beat too long before he broke it.

"You're eating apples and cheese," he accused. "And drinking tea."

Diana smiled. "Yes." She gestured to her tray, to the empty space in the bed. "Would you like some?"

He moved toward the bed quietly now, his eyes intent on hers. He kicked off his shoes and sat on the bed, facing her. He drank her in with desperate focus, cataloging everything he saw, every sign of her health. Slowly, as if she might vanish before his eyes, he reached for her scarred hand. She offered it, squeezing tight. He traced the white lines that the lightning left on her palm, her hand, her arm. Diana shivered; she wasn't cold.

"What happened?" he asked quietly.

She told him, starting from the moment she'd opened her eyes on the outskirts of the Elysian fields. She took him through ehr encounter with Zeus and Hera, their tearful truce, and then, the dream she'd had of seeing her mother. "It was my dream," Diana said, "But she was awake. Menalippe arrived safely. Hestia's pathway to Themyscira works."

Both of their eyes drifted over to the shrine to Hestia. Diana breathed a quiet prayer in Greek. One day. "Thank you, Bruce. It's beautiful."

He nodded but said nothing. His gaze was so intent, Diana wanted to squirm. Instead, she told him about waking up and talking to Athena, then asked, "What happened on your end?"

Bruce leaned forward as he answered. "You had them both in the lasso, it blinded us all, and then in an instant, the light died. Zeus and Hera vanished, and you were falling. Hermes was completely shocked, so I caught you."

Diana, unaware of doing it, traced gentle circles on top of Bruce's hand with her thumb; she could have no idea how distract he found it and how desperate he was for her not to stop.

"Thank you," she said.

"He and I took you back to the dais. I may have screamed at some deities. I med-scanned you and your heart went into a strange rhythm. Apollo started singing, and I gave you compressions. We got it back. He kept singing, they all did, until your color returned. Then, you were just... out. Sleeping. Magical coma. I ordered Hermes to us back to the Javelin, and I brought you back here. The rest is like Alfred said. He and Leslie did all kinds of scans, but you were completely stable. Steady heartbeat; breathing on your own. Your burns healed. The wound from the arrow healed and the scar is nearly gone. Apollo even told us not to worry about artificial hydration and nutrition, that you would not need that kind of intervention for some time. You just slept."

He said it all with a ruthless lack of emotion in his voice; his eyes told a different story.

"I'm sorry, Bruce."

"Diana," he said. "I called one of my allies, Zatanna. She knows magic. I asked her if you needed a kiss or something."

She managed to hold it in for a beat, but the giggle burst out of her. His face was stone.

"And did I?" she wondered.

"Of course not. It was ridiculous. Zatanna told me you didn't need a kiss, so I didn't assault you."

Now the smile was impossible for her to contain, filling her entire face. "Thank you." She squeezed his hands; she considered pointing out that she was awake and very willing now, but he kept going, hopping off the bed in his agitation.

"You slept through her visit," he said, pacing. "You slept through all of it. All the scans, the tests, all our attempts to wake you. Hell, I built that entire shrine and redecorated this suite while you slept. I took the whole week off from Wayne Enterprises, and I did it all. I even painted it this blue. Apollo said fumes wouldn't affect you. And every time I took a drill or a hammer to this wall, I hoped it would wake you up. Alfred was horrified, said it was the most brutish, inconsiderate behavior he had ever seen, and he was ashamed of me."

Diana pressed her lips together, forcing the laugh back. "I didn't hear a thing," she promised. He grunted, resumed his pacing.

"Bruce." Comedy aside, the weight of what he had done was sinking in, stunning her.

Diana's suddenly quiet tone jerked him out of his agitation. He stopped and sat on the bed and faced her again. She took his hands in her own. "Bruce, this room, the shrine... it's beautiful."

He kissed her knuckles, squeezing her hands so tightly for an instant that it nearly hurt. "It was my mother's favorite guest room, where she would house her honored guests and dearest friends. She would have loved you."

Diana swallowed, working at the emotion that was gathering in her throat and chest. "But why?" she whispered. "You didn't have to change anything. But you did all this... you built a shrine to Hestia! And how you managed to get a real Themysciran vase, I have no idea. Why would you do all this?"

Bruce took her hands, let them rest on his chest. She felt how rapidly his heart was beating; in his eyes, he let her see the raw warring emotions, fear and hope.

"Now that your mission on Olympus is over," he said, "we can go back to searching for the metas. Trying to form a team, for when the next threat comes. And you said you would leave Paris soon, maybe relocate to New York. But I wanted..." Bruce took a deep slow breath, glancing at the statue of Hestia before meeting Diana's eyes again. The words were difficult to release because of how much fear and how much hope they carried.

"I wanted you to know that... whenever you want... you can always have a home here."

Overwhelmed, Diana took a moment to carefully take her breakfast tray, minding what was left of her cold tea, and walk it over to the desk, setting it down carefully and returning to the bed. Bruce watched her every movement without blinking, his heart in his eyes.

When she was settled in the bed again, she reached for him, gently framing his face with her hands. She let a single tear drop from her eyes, unhindered. He longed to wipe it away with his fingertip, but he dared not move. Her eyes held him still.

"Thank you, Bruce Wayne," she whispered, first in English, then in Greek. "Thank you." And she pulled him in for a tender kiss, still crying. For a moment, they held each other, soft and full of unspoken things.

Then, the fire between them reawakened and she gripped him tighter, ravaging his mouth. He met her desire with his own, and Diana sucked in a surprised breath in through her nose when Bruce pulled away to jerk away her robe and pull her nightgown over her head. "I was going to do this better," he growled. "Slower."

Invigorated to the point of desperation, Diana took hold of Bruce's t-shirt collar and ripped the shirt in half like paper, tossing each half off to the side. "Why?" she panted, pouncing as soon as he'd shed his sweats, covering his neck with kisses and gasping as his hands roamed her body.

"To maintain some decorum," he said, affecting Alfred's accent. She laughed, letting him roll her onto her back and claim her mouth. She fought back, letting her nails dig into his back as he worked magic with his fingers to make her gasp his name. Frantic to feel him, Diana took the hard length of him in her hand, tugging and teasing until she heard him groan.

"I've had enough decorum," Diana growled, pulling him back down to nip at his jaw. Bruce grinned. "Yes, Your Highness," he said.

And what followed was not decorous, but frantic and sweaty, hard and fast. Bruce was a relentless lover, and Diana, eager to be pleased. When the first waves of pleasure crashed over her, Diana let herself breathe for a moment before chasing Bruce's own release with ruthless dedication. He thrilled at her strength and the rush he felt knowing that all of her power was his to control, just for this moment, because she would stop the instant he asked her to. (He never did.) In turn, Diana delighted in letting Bruce dominate her for a time before she took the control back and drove him over the edge with the firm strokes of her hips. She grinned in pure triumph when his nails dug into her thighs and the tension bled from his body. They both collapsed.

As they lay in the bed panting, Diana's exhausted grief and Bruce's fear for her dissipated away, replaced by a comfortable contentment.

They lay, still entangled with the sheets and each other, gazing at the ceiling.

Diana, still panting, breathed something in Greek that Bruce didn't understand.

"Exactly, fuck decorum," he said.

She laughed. "I was reminding myself that I have to eventually return to Paris. At least for a time."

Bruce said, "I'll take you there. I have to return the Javelin to the Paris office anyway."

"Eager to get rid of me?"

"The sooner you leave, the sooner you can get your affairs in order and come back," he said. She smiled at his frankness, resting her head on his shoulder. "Besides, I have a lead on the speedster," Bruce continued.

Remembering her mission sobered Diana; she propped herself up on one arm, looked down into Bruce's eyes. "Bruce," she said. "I do not know if I can catch an asteroid, like Clark."

Bruce sat up too, taking her arms in his hands and squeezing gently. "That is why we will build the team, Diana. Whatever happens, you won't have to do it alone." He kissed her cheek and stood, walking towards the bathroom. She heard the water turn on, then he poked his head back out.

"Diana?"

She sat up, holding the sheets at her chest. "Yes?"

Bruce grinned, all boyish charm.

"Welcome home."

XXXX

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Credit to Wonder Woman #167 for the dream quote, which fit perfectly into this story, which acts my tribute to Wonder Woman of the comics, the DCAU, and the recent films. :)
> 
> Thank you friends, for joining me in this journey with Diana and Bruce! I feel sure it won't be our last together. I hope you enjoyed yourself! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed yourself! They truly do motivate and encourage me. :-) See you in the sequel, NEW YORK IS A WOMAN! 
> 
> -rosa


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